First and Foremost
by Cappucinno
Summary: AU. Modern. Zelink. They had all come to accept the unfortunate fact that life was out to get them. Of course, they had failed to realize just how determined life could be. Yeah, and that guy who preached about free will? Well, Sheik's not convinced.
1. In Pieces

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not mine, with the exception of Shane. I own nada, except for Shane. I don't own Hyrule, only Shane.

* * *

**First and Foremost**  
by Cappucinno

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE: IN PIECES**

* * *

**November 27, 2016— 9 a.m.****  
**_The Old Apartment_

Zelda stood in the center of the room, one hand pressed to her forehead as she struggled with her mental checklist. What else did she need to bring? Pillow, throw blanket, coffee creamer, toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, brush, conditioner, tea cabinet collection, PS3, clothes, shoes, dishes, novelty mugs, deodorant. What else? They were all little things, material possessions, but Zelda wouldn't feel right leaving without them.

She didn't want to leave anything to come back to. That was too much like she was saying, "Be right back, okay?"

After a minute of continuing to stare off into thoughtful space she lifted the duffel bag up off of the freshly made Queen sized bed, slinging it over her shoulder, and picked a time-worn picture frame from the nightstand. In the photo two people were frozen, their faces stretched into happy carefree smiles—and one of them had been herself. Three years ago, when they'd both graduated from college.

Take the picture? Hm.

That boy in the picture, where was he now? Still with his latest girlfriend in some run-down motel? Zelda's mouth curved up into a small smile and she pocketed the frame in her white artisan jacket. No use leaving it to collect dust. To leave the picture behind would only make him feel guilty every time he looked at it anyways. Because it was just so typical Link to do something like that.

And that was the last thing she wanted for her friend. Her best friend, actually.

That was why, after six years, she'd decided it was best for her to leave.

It had all begun in their freshman year with a dire need for company and an upcoming psychology final. There had been just one too many instances where a certain Link Ordon had wound up crashing on her little twin sized bed after one of their brutal all-nighters. Eventually those little instances had become so frequent that they had both simultaneously concluded it was best to just rent a house somewhere. The fact that they both hated their roommates with a fiery passion had helped some too, she admitted.

As had their constant flirtation and instant chemistry.

People speculated about what exactly they _were_, but it was a friendship first and foremost. They had silently agreed long ago that it would just be too awkward otherwise. And it had never became more than that, despite the sleeping arrangement, the occasional shared kisses, and the steadfast affection. Not for Zelda, anyways. And when the time came, as it unavoidably had, he'd taken his girlfriends out somewhere far away from their little home and had his wicked way with them there.

And Zelda?

Well, if Zelda had ever had any guys at all then Link had never noticed. It wasn't unlike Zelda to be that discrete.

And that why this time, there would be absolutely no discrete about Zelda's actions. Link wasn't always the most observant person, but the resounding emptiness in their—no. The emptiness in _his_ home would be impossible to miss. Zelda's absence was something akin to coming home and having all the furniture rearranged.

It was a difficult thing to miss.

Her clothes had been picked up, the closet meticulously emptied. The bathroom neatly pruned of her belongings, her favorite coffee mugs were gone. Her not-so-secret chocolate stash was mysteriously MIA. And all that was left was either sterile, necessary, or Link's… with the exception of the silverware and laundry detergent. The glaring obviousness was intentional.

And why?

The night before had certainly not been the first night that Zelda had fallen asleep in their strangely empty bed, devoid of any laughter or warmth. It had happened quite frequently before. But it was certainly the night that jolted her from her comfortable daydreams into the harsh reality of their situation. It had only taken one more cold night for Zelda to firmly and resolutely make up her mind. _She_ had to be the one to leave. He never could've done it, regardless of whether he wanted to or not.

Because he'd always been the more emotional one. And she'd always been the reasonable one. And reason said that this was no way to live the rest of their lives. College had ended. They'd have to end eventually as well. The fair haired young woman paused by the door, a crooked smile curving at her full lips as she fondly touched a hand to the whiteboard hanging from the doorknob.

A little college-dorm touch that the two of them hadn't been able to resist nabbing at Target.

A glance at the writing caused her smile to take a turn for a mere bitterly amused quirk of the lips. The writing was creepily cheerful and Disney, something that Zelda probably never would've written if the situation hadn't required it. Cheerful was good, she'd reasoned, that way he wouldn't think that she was upset or angry at him. Because she wasn't. Not at all. That, and elegant script just wasn't the right way to tell somebody that the dishes needed doing.

She was just leaving, finally, because it was time for her to go.

'Ship my stuff to 1904 Castle Street if you find it, okay? Rent's under your pillow. Take-out's in the fridge, and I left the number for the Chinese take-out on the freezer. Take care, and remember to EAT, would you? -Love, Zelda.

P.S. Empty the dishwasher.'

With a breathy laugh she tapped on the plastic surface in fond approval before swinging the door open and stepping out into the hallway. She paused there, before closing her eyes in a resigned manner. She un-clipped the house-key from the side of her purse and tossed it backwards through the door frame.

Her house key fell to the ground with a resounding 'clang' that was all too loud for the silence, and the door swung shut shortly thereafter. Zelda stared at the shut door, one she'd never enter again, for a moment with some foreign look in her eyes before she shook her head and started down the crappily paved walkway that lead down to the sidewalk.

"Take care of yourself, Link."

* * *

**November 27, 2016— 4 p.m.****  
**_1904 Castle Street_

Zelda knew better than to be startled when she felt warm—familiar—arms wrap tightly around her. However, when a warm face was pressed heartbreakingly into her shoulder she was forced to take a deep breath to steady herself. Something caught in her throat but she forced it down, forced herself to remain composed. For what seemed like an eternity there was only silence.

And then she sighed.

"Found me already, did you?" She teased.

Link's voice immediately rose in response, a strained tear-wrenching tone that Zelda fought hard to ignore.

"What did I do? What did I do wrong?" His voice was trembling ever-so-slightly, no longer that of the fearless young man she'd met five years past.

Of course.

Zelda had almost forgotten how similar they had become in the last five years that they'd lived together. They would never blame each other, no. Wouldn't even dream of it, but neither would hesitate to blame themselves_. _And for some absurd reason, the fair haired girl almost let loose her tears at the very sound of his voice saying those horrid, accursed, obscene words. That was exactly what she hadn't wanted him to think.

Zelda took a staggered breath to center herself again in some attempt to numb the mindless pain that gripped at her chest. She only prayed that he didn't see her weakness.

"Link, you didn't do anything_. _You didn't do anything wrong."

"Zelda, you wouldn't just leave like that if I hadn't done something wrong! You would've… you would've _said _something. Did you forget? Zelda, I _know _you. You don't just do stuff… like… like that. What did I do?" He paused, and she knew if she turned around his eyes would be bloodshot and red, but his cheeks would be dry. He had always been strong like that. "What did I_ do_? Tell me. Zelda, it won't happen again. _Ever. _I swear to Farore, just come back. Come _home._"

She didn't turn.

"Link—"

"No. Just, Goddesses, Zelda come back. Come home."

Zelda's violet eyes never wavered from their vigil upon the dusty wooden floors. She couldn't turn. Wouldn't turn. Because if she did, she knew she'd only fall prey to the magic of his bottomless cobalt eyes. Even as she felt him hold her tighter and the tears welling up behind her eye-lids, she refused to turn. Refused to face him. Refused to answer.

And so they stayed like that for a long time. Him holding her. Him pleading. Begging. Yelling.

She wasn't entirely sure when she'd sent him away. Or what she'd said, or what she'd done exactly.

She was too damn numb to be aware anymore.

* * *

**November 27, 2016— 11:47 p.m.****  
**_Oak's Bar & Grill_

"How's the girl?"

"Hm?" Link glanced up from his drink with a blank expression, blinking in a sleep-deprived manner at his long time friend and drinking buddy. "Did you say something?"

"Girl." The raised an eyebrow, amused with his friend's current inebriated state. "What. Is. Up?"

"Ah. Haven't got one." Shane rolled his eyes.

"Right. Forgot about that. Fine, how's the roomie?"

"Haven't got one."

"Dude. Zelda. I'm talkin' about Zelda. You know, great cook, little spazzy, moody, kickass gamer, damn smart, hot as hell?"

Link laughed. And frankly, it creeped the hell outta Shane. It was one of those odd little artificial noises, a hollow sound coupled with a bitter grin. And there was something that Shane couldn't quite place just behind his friend's eyes. And robotically, Link responded. Eerily cheerful, clearly bitter, and completely un-Link.

"Haven't got one."

"You've got to be shittin' me. What happened?"

"No clue. She just… up and left.'

"Seriously. What happened? Boyfriend, fiancée, husband, rabid angry parents, a fight? What?"

"She just _left_, okay? I haven't got a damn clue. DROP IT."

Optimistic Shane fell silent, for once, and seemed to take note of the gravity of the situation. Link downed the rest of his beer and Shane slumped. Oh, Malon was going to flip shit. Shane sat there, looking blank and brainless. And then suddenly he looked alarmed and shot straight up, fixing his friend with a horrified look.

"DUDE. How are you going to _feed _yourself? Shit man. How the fuck are you going to survive?"

Link was coherent enough to shoot his drunk friend an annoyed glance.

"If Zelda were here right now, she'd smack you over the head and tell you go fuck yourself." He paused thoughtfully before seeming to remember something. "Fornicate with yourself, actually." He amended.

"But she's not here. DUDE, survival! Survival is _key_ here."

Link took another swig of beer, burying his face into his hands. Zelda wasn't there. Zelda was _always_ there. Because she was just Zelda. And Zelda was just _like that. _She'd never even dropped any hints that maybe she wasn't happy. She'd smile like always and scold him in that cool and collected voice he'd grown so fond of, but that was it. No hints. No signs. No warnings. No nothing.

"She left a week's worth of take-out in the fridge. And some ice-cream. And crème-brulee. And the delivery number." Link mumbled, looking distracted and distant, as he had from the moment he'd sat down at the bar.

"What, are you serious?"

Link laughed again. "I know. Typical Zelda, right?" Clearly Link wasn't in a very talkative mode. Not that Link had ever been a big talker. But instead, he was just sitting there, looking as sullen as Shane had ever seen him.

"Well… hey. Take care of yourself man. There's other fish in the sea."

The look on Link's face was bittersweet, at best.

"Well, I'm pretty sure people like that are an endangered species."

Shane's lips quirked upwards and he laughed heartily as he clapped his friend on the back. Link was jolted half-way back into reality and smiled sheepishly. Link had fallen prey to his emotions, as always. Just… sans the reasonable Zelda to balance him out.

"It's not the end of the world. You guys are still best friends, right?"

A small thoughtful grin had replaced the previously crest-fallen look on Link's face. Clearly it wasn't something he'd thought of before. But what if that was lost now too? No. He couldn't think like that. Of _course_ they were still best friends. They would always be best friends. Nothing would ever change that. Nothing _could_ ever change that.

Zelda had said so herself.

"And hey, maybe now you can _actually_ get yourself girlfriend right? No more mooning over your blonde haired bombshell. Good luck man, have fun with that."

"Yeah. Thanks, bye Shane. Guess I'll see you around, right?"

"Course dude, sayonara."

* * *

_**January 31, 2011—2 a.m.  
**__The Old Apartment_

_They had been in bed. He'd been wide awake; she'd been fast asleep. He was watching her._

_She was really gorgeous, he mused. Waves of fair golden hair, accented by gleaming platinum in the few strands that had managed to catch more sun exposure than the others. She had delicate features and the sort of bone structure that he would forever identify as that of long lost royalty. Beauty in its purest form. Her lashes were long and naturally dark, lying in elegant contrast with the fairness of her unblemished skin._

_Link half frowned, half smiled. It wasn't the first time he'd ever thought that his roommate was the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth. But it probably wasn't such a great thing to be thinking of, particularly when said roommate was sleeping peacefully away a few inches away from his own body._

_Clad only in one his own white button shirts, in which the first two buttons had long since fallen off, revealing to him the barest hint of cleavage._

_If she were awake she probably would have been scandalized._

_And she probably would've beaten him within an inch of his life. Zelda Harkinian could be prim and proper lady when times called for it, but she wouldn't hesitate to check someone if the situation so required it._

_But Link was tough. It was worth it considering the great privilege it was to be able to watch—not stare at—the blonde before him. Particularly when she was busy muttering under her breath about some 'damned Hero' and looking distressed in an adorable manner._

_Of course Zelda would never in a hundred years admit to her little habit of sleep-talking._

_"I do not. Bugger off, I'm working." she'd say indignantly, and turn her back on him._

_But either way, listening to the high and mighty Zelda Harkinian mumble incoherently was a prize that Link would never tire of. It made her seem less far away, more human._

_Which wasn't to say that she wasn't human. After all, there was a reason he so enjoyed her company._

_Of course, Link and Zelda weren't your typical run-of-the-mill best friends. Their relationship was more of a partner-in-crime thing. They didn't need to talk all the time. In fact most of their bonding was accomplished in comfortable silence. The pair had never needed words to understand each other, it was something that came naturally, almost like they had been born to do it._

_They rarely bickered, at least not after they had become good friends, and when they did it was usually only due to a certain time of the month combined with Link's decided inadequacy with kitchen appliances. _

_But that was just the way they worked. They were both immature, both a bit stubborn and pigheaded, and they were both spazzy fools when it was appropriate, and neither of them had any tolerance for romantic sap._

_Which was why Link kept his gushing to an all time low. And she'd never notice if he kept it to a controlled minimum and made sure only to do it when he could write it off as sleep-deprivation._

_Or so he hoped._

_Zelda's breath caught and for a moment her mumbling ceased, a deep furrow knitting itself onto her forehead. After a moment of tense silence it vanished and she sighed, a dream-induced smile tugging at her lips once more._

_A tiny breath of laughter escaped Link and he found his hand hovering a mere hairs breadth away from the skin of Zelda's cheek. For some unknown reason he found himself holding his breath, making gentle care that Zelda would not awake. He brushed a stray hair from the edge of Zelda's lips._

_The blonde opened her eyes, sleep heavy on her eyelids as she blearily observed him._

_"Are you trying to give me a heart-attack?" she said amusedly after he snatched his hand away. He knew he was blushing because his skin was hot. Great._

_"Wha-why would I give you a heart-attack?" He asked, blue eyes blinking sleepily with obvious confusion._

_She gave him one of her infamous ice-queen glares._

_"It's creepy as hell to wake up with someone stroking your face. What's up, Link? Bad dream?"_

_"You're cruel." Link feigned being hurt and reached over to pull the smaller blonde up against his chest. "Cold."_

_She smiled against his shoulder, and shifted closer._

_"You're cuddly tonight," Zelda mused as her eyes drifted shut. "You going soft on me?"_

_So, Link thought he might possibly be in love with her. Not the end of the world. They'd been living together for almost a year after all, it was only natural._

_And he was pretty positive she felt the same way. After all, the electric shock that jolted him every time they happened to brush during their daily routines could not have been a one-sided thing._

_And he'd caught her watching him more than once. There was just no way. And that kiss on Christmas that she thought he didn't remember._

_With another laugh Link reached forward and flicked her nose, reveling in her surprised squeak and recoil, though he was immediately sad for the loss of warmth._

_"Link. Retard!"_

_"You're so loud," he teased. "Zel, hush up, Malon needs her beauty sleep."_

_He laughed when she tried to get him back and wrapped his arms around her slim waist more securely. Eventually Zelda settled down then she was silent, her head tucked just beneath his chin._

_Perfect. It was really a wonder that she was still single._

_"Link…"_

_He 'hmed' in response and he felt her shift, noting with some disappointment that she'd propped herself up on her shoulder, putting more distance in between them. His brow furrowed when he noted the concerned frown on her face._

_"What's up?"_

_"…you know that we can't, you know, _be together, _right? I know we've talked before, but…"_

_He could feel his stomach drop. Something in his chest physically ached, and it crossed his mind for a second that she was purposely pretending not to notice the rejection written all over his face._

_He felt Zelda slump tiredly back onto the mattress, losing some of that edge she'd held only a few seconds before. He watched as her hand reached out, brushing distractedly over the curve of his cheek, as if to make sure he was still looking at her._

_"It just wouldn't work out, you know? Because you'll leave, or I'll leave and I don't want either of us to get hurt when that day comes. I'd rather keep you as a friend than lose you because of… some misplaced feelings."_

_She took a deep breath and he shut his eyes so that she wouldn't see him. A smile curved at his lips and he nodded silently as Zelda breathed a sigh of relief and cuddled right up against his chest, fitting as perfectly there as she always had._

_"I'm sorry, Link. It's kind of late to be bringing this up, I know but… I can't lose you like that." She paused and mumbled something that Link could've sworn was, "I hate this," but at the moment he wasn't thinking enough to really process it._

_Link didn't answer that his feelings already were on the line. Instead he just chuckled, his little secret, and held the girl who he couldn't love close._

_"Silly Zelda. Don't even worry about it."_

_Tomorrow he'd go out and find himself a nice girl. Tonight he would hold Zelda in his arms for as long as he could._

_He could feel Zelda relax in his arms with a heavy sigh—for a second he could swear it was a disappointed one, but he quickly brushed the thought from his mind. He tightened his arms around her small body, tucking his head into the cushion of her silky hair._

_It was a perfect fit._

_Tomorrow he'd go find himself a nice girl._

* * *

**A/N**: Been a while since I last wrote anything, I know. But this story is almost complete so I'll be able to actually finish it off. I'm thinking it's gonna be real short. 3-5 chapters, probably. If you're confused at all right now, you probably should be. Things will get cleared up in the next chapter. I'll probably be updating every month, to every other month. Maybe more if you're lucky and I'm inspired.

reviewpuh-leaseIluffyew?  
Constructive criticism is always welcome.


	2. In Pieces, Part II

**Disclaimer:** These characters are not mine, with the exception of Shane. I own nada, except for Shane. I don't own Hyrule, only Shane.

* * *

**First and Foremost**  
by Cappucinno

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO: IN PIECES (Part II)**

* * *

**November 29, 2016  
**_Various locations._

Mondays were harsh by nature.

They yanked you straight out of your weekend daze and into the cruel reality of the working world like nothing else. And there was nothing worse than waking up with a killer hangover at six in the morning so that you could make it to work by seven.

Unless of course your name was Zelda Harkinian who blinked into awareness with a killer hangover at four thirty in the morning, having gotten absolutely _no_ sleep because you never had a weekend daze to begin with.

That meant that Monday was _hell_.

Zelda glowered at the little red numbers on the microwave that cheerily read: 4:32. In the goddamn morning. That meant that it was too late to even _attempt_ getting a decent nap and too early to start anything.

Not that she had anything she wanted to do. It wasn't like she actually missed making breakfast for a certain fair-haired, blue-eyed, devastatingly attractive young man with a heartbreaker's smile and strong warm arms.

No. Of course not.

She kept telling herself that she'd done it because it was just a pain in the ass to always have to worry about someone else's wellbeing in addition to her own. No matter what crap Malon tried to spout about how wonderful it was to care for someone else.

Speaking of Malon…

Zelda glanced down at the small phone she'd been holding for the latter part of the night. No missed calls from Link. Not that she'd stayed up waiting, even hoping for one.

Her azure eyes drifted from the phone in her hand to the little red numbers and back again before the corners of her lips piqued up in what could have passed for a smile. She immediately flipped the hood of her phone up and began rapid-firing away on a screen that read 'New Message'.

* * *

Two hours later found Zelda in a quaint little coffee shop, her gaze guiltily locked on to her fidgeting thumbs as the redhead sitting across from her proceeded to deal Zelda the most brutal stare she'd ever been on the receiving end of.

Zelda was looking everywhere but at the tanned redhead. Malon, for her part, was glaring as Zelda's azure eyes darted to and fro, lighting constantly upon the window just over Malon's shoulder.

Window, Malon, floor, thumbs, window, Malon, repeat…

Malon continued to stare her good friend down, her perpetually chapped lips narrowed into an unforgiving line.

"So, Zelda. Let's get this straight. You didn't say _anything_ to him. No conversations, no warnings, no phone calls, no head-up, no hinting—nothing. And then, without talking to any of us about it, you moved yourself out."

The furious redhead paused, checking the volume and general momentum of her voice as she took a sip of her hot cocoa to calm herself down.

Malon easily possessed the most sensitive stomach in the world, and therefore despised coffee so much that her puny little body would reject the substance with every fiber it possessed.

Needless to say, she'd decided to stick to hot cocoa all through college, a choice her dietician would likely bemoan her for later on in her life.

At Zelda's guilty silence, Malon went on, chin rested on the bridge formed by her interlocked fingers. "You, my dear friend, are an _idiot._ Firstly, how are we supposed to be keeping you safe if we don't even know where you are? You should have cleared that with Sheik waaay ahead of time. Secondly, are you out of your mind?"

Immediately Zelda straightened up indignantly, her mouth opening to fire off some witty remark in response to the fondly distributed insult. She was cut off by Malon holding up a hand to silence her.

"No. Don't even. Zelda, you just—I really can't believe that you did that to him. I just can't. It's inhumane. Don't you have a conscience anymore? You know how he feels about you. Furthermore, you know how _you _feel about him."

"He's a grown man, we can't play pretend anymore! And if this all comes out, me living with a man I'm not married to? The repercussions would be _huge. _And besides, it's not like I could actually stick around anymore, it's been driving him up the wall." Zelda responded, fingers angrily gripping at the edge of the table as she pushed back the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake her at the mere thought of what she'd said. "It was for his own good."

Malon knew an excuse when she heard one and she narrowed her eyes at her blonde haired charge, trying to gauge what had Zelda so badly spooked. She looked like she hadn't had a good night's sleep in _weeks_.

"For his own good. Kind of like your 'just friends' policy? And then the whole bed-sharing thing?" Zelda blushed hotly.

"Malon, you _know_ that he would have gotten hurt. I'm just trying to protect him."

"Zelda, open your _eyes_. He _did_ get hurt. The press would have been bad, sure, but at least he still would have had his best friend. You really think Link is the kind of guy who cares about bad press?"

Zelda faltered ever so slightly before regaining her proverbial footing. She snorted and crossed her arms, looking pointedly away from her friend.

"I… I just have a bad feeling about this. I think it's better for us all if we take a little space from each other."

"...You got a _bad feeling_ so you moved out and broke his heart?" Malon had a way with making even Zelda's best ideas sound idiotic. Malon also had a way with knowing when Zelda was full of shit. "Something's going on here."

"He doesn't even know who I am!" Zelda protested, a little too quickly. "He'll live."

"Is that was this is about?" Malon asked, a hint of worry bleeding into her voice. Her voice dropped, quieter and more insistent. "Zelda, I know you better than this. What's going on?"

Zelda just shook her head, tight lipped. Malon pressed further, unwilling to let the issue at hand slip away.

"No," Zelda said slowly, as if she were struggling with herself. "It just… it would sound crazy_. _Just trust me, I'm doing the right thing."

Malon threw up her arms in an exasperated manner. "If you're really doing the right thing here, then why the hell did you call me at four in the morning the very day after you moved out telling me that we had a Code Red and that you couldn't get to sleep? You haven't done that since _highschool _where that creepy businessman tried to blackmail you once he figured out who you were_._"

"I told you, I just— it sounds crazy." Zelda shook her head, barely managing to retain her regal composure. "He's not safe with me. I don't want him to get hurt."

"And breaking his heart isn't the same as him getting hurt?"

Zelda sighed.

"Not this again…"

"Look, I'm just trying to make sense of this. I'll go with you on this one, I'll trust you." Malon asked, leaning forward in a conspiratorial manner. "Do you want to know why?"

"Fine, I'll bite." The fair-haired Zelda responded, suddenly looking very weary. "Why?"

"Because you're utterly terrified that you'll lose him. I can see that in your eyes. Something's got you spooked, _bad, _so maybe you're right. Maybe he's safer right now." Malon had that look in her eyes, that look she got when she'd just sunk her teeth into something good and had no intentions of letting go. "But I'm going to get to the bottom of this, and I'm going to fix this, Goddesses help me. Because maybe you're right, but this doesn't change the fact that you love the guy and you two _need _each other."

"Malon," Zelda groaned in an unladylike manner. "I'm a member of the royal family. I'm the heir to the throne. I'm _undercover_ until the day of my coronation and _technically speaking _my hand has been promised to someone. Why can't you understand that this—this whole romance, it isn't possible. I just want to keep him safe."

Malon looked at her like she'd grown a second head. Zelda sighed.

The blonde gave up on convincing her close friend and advisor, opting instead to rest her cheek on her fist and drum her other hand against the table idly.

"…Have you told Sheik about all this yet?"

Malon lit up like a Christmas tree and Zelda instantly regretted bringing up her cryptic head of security. And so Zelda spent the remainder of her morning pondering existence whilst 'hming' and 'awwing' at Malon's enthuisiatic tales about her text conversations with Sheik.

Most of which were cryptic riddles that amounted to, 'You're a stalker'.

* * *

After her meeting with Malon, one of her personal attendants and closest friends, Zelda was late for work. She'd somehow managed to get herself hopelessly lost on the one-mile trek from the coffee shop to her office, lose a shoe, and accidentally break the screen on her new cell-phone in a less than two hour time frame.

Needless to say, Zelda was a walking disaster upon that fateful November morning. And to add to her infinite glee, it had started snowing on her just before she reached her office building.

With a sigh Zelda sank gratefully down into her plush leather chair, resting her elbows heavily on the dark wood of her desk. Her cheeks were still tinged a lively pink from her morning excursion in the November chill and her clothing was still thoroughly soaked from the melted snow.

"Goddesses," Zelda groaned. "Why does the world hate me today?"

A young man leaning against her doorframe raised a brow at her antics. "I haven't the slightest inkling, princess. "

Zelda jerked upright, her heart pounding in her chest. Link? No, a different blonde. Surprise was writ all over her face as the identity of the young man registered and a slow grin brightened her face. She immediately leapt up out of her seat, arms outstretched.

"Sheik!"

The man smiled—or did he? She could never tell with that scarf around his face—and opened up his arms, catching the bundle of snow-soaked clothing that was Zelda Harkinian as she charged him with a hug.

He was about average height for a guy, a good half-a-head taller than Zelda. His skin was dark with a desert tan and his eyes were a deep wine red. His dark blonde hair was fashioned in a messy manner, eerily reminiscent of how it had been even back in high school. He didn't look like he had aged a day, but he'd always been like that. Mysteriously constant.

Sheik, yet another close friend, and her head of security.

"Princess." He said, fondly ruffling his friend's hair. "You look... well."

"Don't _even _start with me. There's so much going on right now, you have no idea…" Zelda said with a heavy sigh.

"I have a few," Sheik said breezily, "But I'd like to know what's going on in that head of yours."

Zelda leaned back, looking wan. "Malon."

"Mmm, small details." Sheik shrugged. "So, you finally left him. What happened?"

The fair haired young woman sighed for the millionth time that morning. "That seems to be the question of the day."

"Well, I've been trying to talk you out of that living arrangement for years. The fact that you've finally given in of your own accord is something of an affront to my pride. And it's not like you."

Zelda laughed rather airily, but it didn't mask the tension seeping out of her as she leaned back in her seat.

"Look Sheik, I'd really love to talk to you, but my boss will have my head for breakfast tomorrow if he catches me slacking off." She waved her hand around to indicate the room. "You have no idea how many people would kill for this window office."

"I doubt the wretch would protest," Sheik said in his understated way, settling himself more comfortably against the door frame. "For the time being, I am to be considered a client."

"A client?" Zelda frowned. Sheik had taken on various undercover identities and impersonated more than a handful of people in order to stay close and keep his eye on her, but she could see no reason for him to do so now. "And that's why you're carrying a briefcase. You do know that you don't look like a businessman, right?"

Sheik's eyes crinkled in a smile. "I'm not undercover princess. Your parents have arranged with the agency to begin planning your introduction to the Hylian people. Your identity is, of course, still hidden from them but I've requested to work with you to plan the event."

The world-weary expression on Zelda's face quickly morphed into one of pure glee and Sheik took a mental picture of the rare expression. Her violet eyes had gone wide, making the glaringly obvious dark lines beneath them less prominent and her lips had turned up into a heartbreakingly sincere smile.

Not a grin, not a smirk, not a quirk of her lips. A smile. One that was pure and true and only ever induced by two things: the idea of coming out of the woodworks and Link.

That smille re-centered him on the other purpose of his visit.

"Sheik, marry me? Please? That's amazing, I can finally—do we know when?" Zelda's happy rambling gushed onwards and Sheik laughed, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder to forcibly settle her down and guide her back to her chair.

"Princess, it is regrettable, but first there are other things we should discuss. I am not going to be able to allow you to side step this issue." The look on his face was one of utter seriousness. "You left him. I need to know why."

Zelda's smile fell slowly from her face as she settled back into her chair. Sheik inwardly winced at the sudden loss of energy. Her silence was a resistant one, her ever-present guarded look returning quickly to her eyes. She set her jaw in a mulish imitation of annoyance and pointedly refused to look at Sheik.

Sheik saw something else in her posture. Hidden in the downward twitch of her lips and the restless motion of her legs. Zelda was afraid and she was barely doing a passable job of hiding it.

The blonde man sighed and ran a distracted hand through his hair. "Princess, I am only inquiring because it is my duty to know. Members of your inner circle," Malon, Zelda mentally deduced. "Have been expressing concern for your current state."

"It's nothing." She said, her voice was cold enough to freeze hot lava. "I don't want to talk about it."

"If it was nothing, you'd have no qualms talking about it."

"It was the right thing to do."

"How so?"

Zelda was silent once more.

"Princess. I took the first plane I could here last night when your new rental contract came up on the system. Since then, I have spent several excruciatingly painful hours in the car, thirty minutes convincing security to let me in to speak to your parents, and another hour arranging business with your boss. I came because I was worried about you." Sheik's voice was pitched low, barely above a whisper but Zelda caught every word. He spoke slowly, each syllable pronounced. "Tell me what happened."

This time Zelda responded, but it wasn't a Zelda that Sheik was familiar with. Her voice was hardly above a whisper and Sheik had to strain himself to still his breathing enough to make out what that eerily fragile voice was saying.

"I—I had no other choice, Sheik."

"Princess. Did he know about your… history?"

"No, that's not it. He wouldn't even suspect—" She responded, bleary azure eyes barely cracked open. "No, he doesn't know."

This was not the Zelda that Sheik had grown up with and watched over. Something had scared his proud princess witless.

"Princess, you _need _to tell me. Unburden yourself."

"But, Sheik I… I just want to protect him. I don't know why, but he isn't safe and—I think it's my fault."

This was all painfully familiar. Sheik could almost feel the tumultuous flow of time reversing all over again. History was repeating itself.

"Princess. If something is threatening you, I need to know."

"It's not that straightforward, Sheik. I know what I did wasn't… wasn't perfect, but it's better than hurting him."

Sheik was beginning to lose his patience with this frightened woman and the way she danced around his questions. This wasn't Zelda. Zelda was strong and willful and confident. If something had threatened her loved ones, she would work endlessly to protect them by finding and eliminating the threat. She wouldn't hide them and cut her ties, she would keep them close.

Sheik needed to know what was going on. And so he was harsh with her, pressing her.

"You _already_ hurt him."

Zelda fell silent again and drew her legs up to her chest, settling her cheek against the crest of her knees. She drew in a laborious breath and released it in a heart-wrenching sigh, her eyes falling closed.

"I know."

"You're being selfish. You've broken his heart because of some farfetched fear, you've worried Malon sick to death about you, and you're wasting my time. If something is threatening you, it is my job to know. If you are in danger, we are all in danger, and by keeping it from us you leave us vulnerable. You would endanger us because you are uncomfortable talking about… this fear? That is not the Zelda I know.

Sheik wasn't sure if it was his words or her own nagging guilt that made her continue. Her eyes remained closed and she swallowed the lump that had been slowly forming in her throat throughout the conversation.

Emotional displays weren't like Zelda at all.

"…That's… no, that's not what I—If I knew, I would tell you, I really would, but—"

Sheik was tempted to run away and call up Malon and Saria, because he found that he was having a hard time not slapping some sense into his charge. He'd only ever known Zelda as the stubborn and willful girl he'd grown up protecting. And that Zelda was certainly not this shell of a person breaking-down before his very eyes.

This frail creature frustrated the hell out of him. And she scared him. What had Zelda so scared?

"Don't think I don't feel bad, because I do." Her eyes opened slightly and there was a flicker of that familiar fire that forced Sheik to stay rooted in place. "I felt horrible for hurting him, I still do, but I _know _I did the right thing."

"Princess…?"

"How is it that I always end up hurting the people that I want to protect the most? I didn't want to do that. I just… didn't want him to get hurt. But I—Sheik, I've been… I've _seen _things."

Sheik was effectively silenced.

"Every single night he's not there, every single month, every moment, every breath, I have these dreams. Sheik, I've watched him die. These aren't just dreams, Sheik, they feel real, they feel like—"

"Memories." Sheik finished, quietly. "They feel like memories."

"I see him die every night he's not there. At first it was easy to dismiss, vague. A nightmare because I was alone. But then, they kept coming, and it gets clearer, but I still don't _see _it. It all feels so real and I'm seeing him die and somehow I know—it seems crazy, maybe I'm losing my mind—but I know somehow his death is my fault. And they're not dreams, sometimes it doesn't feel like a memory sometimes it feels like a _premonition_, Sheik." Zelda's voice was lower again now, and her face was partially hidden behind the crook of her elbow.

"Princess," Sheik sighed. "…It may not be as simple as it seems. You desire to protect him, you make sacrifices on his behalf. These… dreams you're having. Doesn't it make sense that he's doing the same thing? That in these dreams, he _wanted _you to let him make sacrifices for you?"

Zelda had no clue, then, that she was pushing away the one destined to be her savior. That was how their destiny had been written, though it pained Sheik to see it repeat itself yet again. He needed to convince Zelda to stay by Link. He needed to convince her that she was not and would not be the cause of his death. He needed to lie to her.

"But he—"

"It is my belief," Sheik began resolutely, cutting Zelda off. "That based off of the things I've heard about this Link, he is far stronger than you give him credit for. Your dreams feel real, but they're just dreams Zelda. You're running away from your own imagination."

"It's cowardice." Sheik shook his head, a disappointed smile curved at his lips. If he had to hurt his princess to save her life, then so be it. "You're hiding because afraid of Link getting hurt on your behalf. Nightmares are common when you're under stress, princess—I think you fear him getting slaughtered by public opinion. You can't protect him from that by running away."

"I'm sorry." Zelda's voice was weak and Sheik fought off the wave of guilt that engulfed him. "I'm sorry, Sheik, but I think you're wrong."

"Zelda, it is hard. I am aware. But, he loved you." Sheik's tongue faltered and he quickly corrected himself. "Loves you. So, let him."

"But, I... I just. I..." The look on her face was one of undisguised pain. "You don't get it, Sheik. I wish I could, but that's just not possible."

"Because you are not capable of letting him make his own decisions, Zelda?" He paused in the door way, looking grim as he watched the blonde flinch. Sheik felt a pang of guilt for pushing her so hard against her instincts.

He watched as she wavered, hesitating, and then saw her resolve in the straightening of her spine and the clenching of her fists. He felt a simultaneous pulse of panic—it wasn't working, she didn't buy it—followed by fear and, so small he almost missed it, he felt _hope._

"You're trying to do the right thing, Sheik. I know I sound like I'm losing it, but I'm right and I know I'm right. I may not know exactly what's going to happen, but I'm not going to let him die because of me."

* * *

**A/N**: This chapter has been extensively revised as of 6/27/2012. I highly recommend re-reading it.

reviewpuh-leaseIluffyew?

-Cappucinno


	3. Keep it Together

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not mine, with the exception of Shane. I own nada, except for Shane. I don't own Hyrule, only Shane.

* * *

**First and Foremost**  
by Cappucinno

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE: KEEP IT TOGETHER**

* * *

**December 15, 2016—11:30 a.m.  
**_The Old Apartment_

"Link?" Shane knocked impatiently on the door of his friend's apartment, a bag of take-out from Uncle Bill's Pancake House dangling from his hand. There was no response. "Link!"

The dark blonde haired young man was sprawled across the threadbare plaid-print couch, cobalt eyes shadowed by a telling gray. Link focused on the television, his cheek pressed against the crook of his elbow as he watched some cooking show special. As another bout of rather violent knocking started up the dishwater-blonde cast a listless look at the door before turning back to his television set.

Rachel Ray was in the process of educating him on how to make strawberry blintzes. Not that Link even knew what those were.

"Link!" Shane called again from outside, and Link swore he heard the wood of his door groan under the pressure. "I know you're in there!"

Link sighed as he sat half-way up, glowering at the shaking door. He could hear his friend's angry cussing and shouting and the blonde rolled his eyes as he cast the blanket off of his lap, tossing it haphazardly over the back of the couch.

He all but stalked over to the door and deftly undid the locks, not even bothering to cover up his irritation at having been bothered. He pulled the door open rather violently, not even noticing as it flew backwards into the wall, the white-board that had been dangling from the handle falling to the ground as he did so.

"What?" He snapped, brows drawn together in a dark scowl. Shane immediately held his hands up in surrender, a broad grin spreading across his face.

"Uh, hey buddy." The blonde's cheerful expression wavered at Link's continued scowl and he tried again, holding up the bag of take-out. "Waffles and turkey patties? I brought the salsa that—oh. Well, she's not here anymore so… never mind."

They both winced at that, Link's scowl immediately falling as his blue eyes flickered rather guiltily to the floor. There was silence in the apartment. The two men stood awkwardly, Link absently scratching at the back of his head.

"Sorry, uh. I'll go clear some counter space, or something." Link said, gesturing his friend inside as he turned and vanished into the humble kitchen on what had formerly been his and Zelda's apartment.

Shane closed the door awkwardly, suddenly aware that everything in the house was completely and utterly silent. Sure, the television was on, blathering on about some ProActiv shit, and Link was rustling around in the kitchen, but there was something missing.

It was devoid of the usual chatter, the screaming over video-games, the hum of the dishwasher, the loud music that served as the 'battle theme' of some fighter game because Zelda hated it. The silence was astonishing, unusual, and unwelcome.

Shane had never been much of a dramatic kind of guy, but even he could sense the huge void that had been left in Zelda's absence. It was just little things that they had always taken for granted, little thing they thought no one could miss.

Well, they'd been wrong. Or at least, Shane had been wrong. Link had always seemed to instinctively know that without Zelda, life would be different. Different in the empty, miserable, depressed sense.

"Shane?" Link raised a brow at his friend, gesturing to the newly cleared counter space. Shane started slightly, before laughing easily and settling the take-out down on the space.

The blonde raised a brow as Link fetched a few plates and then seated himself on the barstool, setting his paper plate down on the newspaper that covered the bar area. Shane settled down beside his friend, casting a puzzled glance at the barren and pristine dining table sitting out in the other room.

It looked suspiciously like a layer of dust had settled over it.

"Link, bud?" Said male looked up from his task of distributing the waffles, one golden brow raised in question. "Is there a, uh, reason that we're not using the dining table?"

He was met with a rather irritated expression and Link turned his attention back to his food, spearing a waffle rather viciously with his fork and all but slamming it down onto his plate. "Not my table." Link eventually said, uncomfortable with the silence that his lack of response had left them in.

"Oh, it's Zel's? Do you want me to go drop it off or someth-"

"No." Shane was taken aback by the growl in Link's voice and he settled uncomfortably back on his chair.

"Sorry, didn't think it was a sore subject." He was met with more silence as his sullen companion prodded a turkey patty and Shane thought, not for the first time, how quiet things were without Zelda there. The two men picked at their meal in the newfound silence, broken only by the cheery voice of Rachel Ray going on about strawberry sauce.

"Link?" No response, Link's eyes were on the television, but Shane knew he was listening. "Is there a reason we're watching a chick's channel?"

"Shane. Shut up. You're ruining the tradition." Link was still focused on the television set as he ate, chewing idly on a chunk of his waffle.

"Tradition?" Shane raised a brow and rolled his eyes as Link gave him a pointed look for chewing with his mouth open. Honestly, Link had been hanging around Zelda for way too long.

"Zelda and I always watch Food Network on Saturday mornings, because all of the cartoons on T.V. are lame." Link explained, oblivious to his friend's heavy sigh and slouching shoulders.

"So, what, is Zelda out there on Castle Street watching T.V. with you in spirit?"

There was heavy silence that filled the room and Shane immediately wished that he could have taken the words back. Link set his fork down, some foreign feeling that Shane couldn't identify flickering through his eyes.

"Link?" There was no response as the male retreated into the kitchen. Shane heard the faint clanging of dishes and winced, guiltily trailing after his friend.

He found Link standing by the counter, gripping the counter so tightly that his knuckles that turned white. His face was tight, blue eyes focused on the coffee machine. If Shane looked closely he could tell his friend was shaking, but only because the faint movement of Link's leg gave him away.

"Link, man." He addressed, sighing as his friend's gaze remained rooted to the coffee machine. "Hey, I'm sorry. That was dumb of me, okay?"

There was another void of silence broken by Link's sharp intake of breath. The dark-blonde haired man reached for a coffee mug on the counter hands shaking almost imperceptively as, like clockwork, the coffeemaker chimed and Link poured himself a cup of coffee. The mug's counterpart sat, untouched, next to the coffee machine, filled to the brim with old coffee.

Instinctively Link reached up to the cupboard and pulled out another cup of coffee. There was a pause as he did so and he turned, as if just realizing that Shane was still there. He flashed a smile, an empty strained one, and sat the mug on the counter, filling it with fresh coffee.

Shane belatedly realized that even if he hadn't been there, Link still would've poured that extra cup of coffee. The typically optimistic young man took the cup of coffee from his friend and sipped at the hot liquid, leaning back against the counter as he did so. His normally vivid aqua eyes had dulled as he met the sullen cobalt eyes of his long-time friend.

"Things aren't the same anymore, are they?" He asked, a bitter breath of laughter following the words. Link exhaled a sigh as he warmed his hands on the cup of coffee. After another period of pregnant silence the wolfish blonde looked up, another hollow grin revealing a dimple in his cheek.

"We can just pretend that she's still asleep in the back room, right?"

Shane's eyes fell to the blanket on his couch and he felt his heart drop a little at that realization. Link couldn't bring himself to sleep in the bed anymore either.

"Din," Shane exhaled, only just noticing the dark rings beneath Link's eyes. "What a mess."

Link's lips curled up into a bittersweet smile. "Thursday's cleaning day."

* * *

**December 25, 904  
**_Unknown location_

"_How 'bout a kiss for luck, princess?" Link asked, a boyish grin lighting up his face as he leaned in close, trapping Zelda between the wall and his own body._

"_Are you kidding me?" Zelda said in an exasperated manner, desperately fighting back the blush that threatened to take over her face. She was rewarded with only a grin as Link leaned further down, one strong hand lifting her chin up to meet him._

"_Aw, c'mon princess." He whispered, his lips hardly grazing hers, looking all too satisfied as Zelda gasped beneath him. _

"_Link," She murmured, eyes falling closed as his mouth melded against her own, his hands reaching back to grip her hair, pulling her closer to him as he deepened the kiss._

"_Link!" A gruff voice called and the couple abruptly parted, Link glowering at the entrance of the cave. After a moment he sighed, placing a chaste kiss against Zelda's lips as he stepped back._

"_Guess that's my cue, huh?" The hero said, smiling apologetically. He turned to go, stopping and turning back with a curious look as Zelda's hand grasped his own. "Zel?"_

"_Link, I—" She cut herself off, and shook her head. "Never mind. Come back safe, okay?"_

"_I promise." He flashed her one of his famous grins and waved cheerily as he jogged out of the cave. Zelda was left with only the echo of his boots to keep her company and she sighed, collapsing into a sitting position on the floor of the cave._

_That day was the first time that Link had ever broken a promise. He didn't come back safely. In fact, he didn't come back at all. _

_It had been weeks before they'd found his body cut to ribbons in the river._

* * *

**December 15, 2016—5:30 a.m.**  
_1904 Castle Street_

Zelda awoke with a gasp, jerking into a sitting position. She was breathing hard, covered in a cold sweat. The blonde squeezed her eyes shut moving her hands to cover her face as she choked back a loud sob. The images flashed through her mind, meeting Link in a courtyard, Link gone for seven agonizing years, helping Link, saving Link, fighting with Link, losing Link, sending Link back in time, dancing with Link in a moonlit courtyard, Link on the ground—not breathing, Link covered in blood, Link with a sword shoved through his chest, Link's brilliant blue eyes open staring at nothing—

"Zelda!" The voice of her companion was commanding and she felt a compulsion to listen, shuddering sobs still wracking her frame. "Zelda, calm down."

"Sheik, please, I can't—" Her voice was hoarse, worried, frantic and Sheik had to struggle to fight back the waves of panic that gripped his heart. Zelda clutched his shirt as he moved to her bedside from his vigil, arms encircling the young woman as she shook and sobbed against him. "Oh, Sheik, it hurts so much."

Sheik rubbed her back in a soothing motion, blood red eyes fastened to the wall as he gently 'shushed' the young princess. Things were getting worse with time, no matter how hard Zelda fought against it. Before her visions—dreams, as he'd tried to them—had come only on occasion, scattered over the years.

But now, without her hero to stabilize her she was wracked by her visions nearly every night. Zelda sobbed again and Sheik held her a little closer, whispering faint words of comfort that did nothing for the princess.

Every night it was the same now, and only when he forced her to take her sleeping pills did the princess ever sleep peacefully. And even then he could see her pain, waking up and instinctively reaching for a warmth and comfort that wasn't there. It was difficult for the old young man to watch because this was fate.

Link and Zelda could never be together. It was written in the sands of destiny itself. It was cruel to bring them together because inevitably, due to factors that they could hardly control, their souls would call to each other. They would always find each other, the Princess and Hero, no matter what time or circumstance. And they would always be torn apart.

Except this, watching _his _Zelda and _his_ Link, was harder than anything he'd ever had to do before. Because this pair was different. They hadn't been brought together. They had been born far away from one another, Zelda had been betrothed already, Link had a life that wasn't dedicated to protecting her, and yet they had all but _dragged_ themselves together, fighting each and every factor that came against them.

Their bond was their own. It wasn't that of the Princess and her Hero. It was merely a very mortal Zelda Harkinian and ordinary Link Ordon that had forged a bond of their own. A bond of friendship so pure and so strong that he'd dared to hope, for an instant, that this generation had been skipped.

But then it began, as he'd known it would and prayed it wouldn't.

Zelda was tortured by visions of his death and agony, the pain that the Princess and her Hero had been through over the millennia, the pain of Link—and all inevitably caused by herself. And so she had done what she thought would protect him. She had left.

Perhaps things would be different this time, Sheik desperately hoped as Zelda's sobbed quieted and she was reduced to gentle shaking. Perhaps this was their trial, this was what would've torn them apart, and perhaps he could still fix this.

Maybe he should stop lying; maybe Zelda's instincts would save them all. Perhaps they could still be together. Or perhaps they wouldn't have to be together at all.

Sheik was all too aware that that would be too idealistic, too perfect to happen. Things were different this time, yes. But only because Zelda had separated them first. Regardless, the trial that they would've faced together would come. Except they would have to face it all alone.

Sheik's heart shed a tear in sympathy for the cruelty of their fate.

* * *

**February 8, 2010—6:05 p.m.**  
_Beyond Bizarre Bakery_

_Link was honestly a little bit worried when six o'clock rolled around and his favorite customer was still mysteriously absent. The blonde fidgeted in a decidedly uncharacteristic manner, waiting patiently at the cash-register for the blonde to appear. He was sporting a rather nasty black eye, not that he could remember why, and he'd awoken to find a thoroughly upset Zelda Harkinian beneath him._

_He'd been hopeful for about five seconds before he heard her sigh of relief, following by an,"Oh, thank God!" And then he'd had an elbow slammed into his face._

_Apparently Zelda Harkinian wouldn't lower herself to striking a sleeping man, though she had no problems about beating a hung-over and decidedly half-awake one. Some morning that had been. She hadn't stopped complaining all morning whilst she forced him to cover his torso with a towel as she waited for his shirt to dry. He'd been shirtless all night; apparently, because Shane had spilled beer all over him and dumped him at Zelda's when he lost track of Link's actual roommate._

_And apparently Zelda had issues with his chest._

_There was something about torture that she kept mumbling about, but Link was pretty certain he hadn't tried to pull anything on the young woman. Hell, all he could remember was waking up on top of her._

_Which would've been a great thing under any other circumstances._

_He wasn't sure who had dumped him off at the moody-but-decidedly-sexy blonde's apartment when they'd failed to find his roommate, but he made a mental note to kick their asses later. _

_When Zelda walked in, finally, Link was instantly relieved. Because the little spitfire of a blonde that he'd grown so fond of actually came back. There was just something about her that made Link instinctively want to talk to her—or piss her off. And he knew that she felt it too, because she'd been coming in every day since _

_Even if she was looking even moodier than usual and glowering at him as she crossed her arms and ordered a roll of rosemary bread._

_In fact, Link was so relieved that he didn't even feel the need to tease her or piss her off. Or maybe that was just the guilt talking. As they exchanged the bread and money respectively Zelda stood there, still glowering in that not-so-cute manner that she always did._

"_You're bruised." She said in a monotone that Link didn't even mind. _

"_Yeah." _

_He knew he looked like an idiot, standing there grinning, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Zelda had come back. This Monday marked the second week he would spend staring desperately at the clock, waiting for her to come in._

"_I'm not sorry." She said, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn into a furrow, even as the tiniest hint of pink crossed her cheeks. A very guilty blush. There was a tentative silence and then she actually managed to meet his gaze._

_Her cheeks turned a bright flaming red. That was a curious new development._

"…_What the hell were you guys celebrating, anyways?" Zelda asked, and it was Link's turn to look guilty, though he wasn't blushing. Because guys didn't blush._

"_Umm," He scratched the back of his head, not quite bringing himself to meet Zelda's suddenly forceful glare. Sexy, but scary as hell. "Well, Shane got a new car so…"_

_When Zelda turned on her heel and marched off Link looked after her in a distressed manner. Maybe she wasn't going to come back again after all._

_But she did._

* * *

**December 15, 2016—10:23 p.m.  
**_The Old Apartment_

Link was slumped over the couch again, half-buried underneath the navy blue fleece blanket that he'd dragged out of the closet earlier that day. His face was once more pushed into his arm—consequentially a make-shift pillow—feet dangling off the edge of the sofa. The television was on, the screen showing off the wicked awesome graphics of Devil May Cry 4.

He had tried to ignore the fact that his X-box controller was far larger than Zelda's wireless PlayStation 3 controller. He also tried to ignore the fact that kicking ass with Nero wasn't nearly as fun without Zelda screaming obscenities and cursing at the television set every time he one-upped her level scores, neatly re-setting her 'S' scores to 'SSS'.

The blonde sighed, propping himself up on his elbow as he was forced to watch a particularly cheesy cutscene. Nero was beating a hole into the ground, screaming after Kirie, his lover/honorary-sister?

Nero was none-too-kindly drowned out by the screaming of his cell phone and Link sighed, hitting the pause button. He cursed as the blankets twisted around him, successfully bringing him down to the ground.

"Shit. Hey Zel, can you get that for me?" He was met with silence as he grappled with his blankets, waiting for the screaming of his cell phone to stop. As he managed to detach himself from the blankets his cell phone was silenced and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Zel, who was it?" Silence.

The blonde frowned, making his way slowly into their bedroom. His slim silver phone was lying innocently on the bed and he picked it up, absentmindedly flipping it open as he crossed the room to the balcony, searching his blonde-haired best friend.

"Zelda?" There was the tiniest flare of panic in his chest as he was met with silence. "Zelda?"

His phone sprang back to life and Link looked down at the screen. He felt his heart stop as he read the cheerful display, '1 New Voicemail!'. The blonde fell onto the bed, cobalt eyes glued to the screen of the phone.

Somewhere in the background battle music had started up again, but somehow Link knew that it wasn't because his best friend had taken over playing in a fit of wounded female pride. He'd probably just dropped it during his struggles with the blankets.

"Zelda," He breathed, cobalt eyes sliding shut as that all-too familiar feeling of emptiness consumed him again. Link allowed his body to flop back bonelessly onto the bed, inhaling that soothing scent of peppermint that Zelda had been so fond of.

She'd always stocked up on bottles of the peppermint lotion at Christmastime, spouting some nonsense about it being 'soothing'. He hadn't thought that he'd ever agree with her, but Zelda had a habit of constantly proving him wrong.

He hadn't heard from his best friend since the day that she'd mysteriously vanished on him. He had known that there was something wrong with his best friend, sobbing fits in the middle of the night that had left him worried and confused, and he'd tried to give her space. Her belongings were all gone, but Link had still held on to that thin strand of hope.

She'd come back. She had to come back to him eventually.

But she hadn't called him, not even once, and every time he'd gone to knock on the door of her new house the door had remained locked and everything had been eerily quiet. There was no sign of her laughter, no screaming at the television, no singing in the kitchen. In fact, Link could have sworn that he'd heard the sound of someone sobbing the last time he'd gone to her new home.

And for some reason the thought of Zelda suffering alone brought a lance of pain straight through his heart. He didn't know what to do without Zelda. But he went through the motions.

Link peeled his cobalt eyes back open, staring listlessly at the ceiling as he mechanically brought his cell phone to his ear, pressing the 'call' button. For a moment there was silence, but then Link felt his heart skip a few beats as a female voice filled his ears.

"Hey, Link." Zelda? Link's heart fell once again as he realized that his caller was not Zelda. "It's Malon. I was just wondering if you were still up. Well, I know you are. It's Saturday, game night, right? Hey, would you meet me tonight at Oak's Bar and Grill? I need to talk to you. Hope to see you there."

He hit the 'end' button, letting his arm drop back down onto the bed. Link sighed as he looked over at the clock which declared it to be a quarter before eleven. For a moment he was still before his eyes went wide and he sprang out of bed, hurriedly searching through his closet for his favorite gray sweater.

Malon was one of Zelda's friends. She, of all people, would know what the blonde was up to.

* * *

**A/N**: This update came quickly, didn't it? I'm pretty proud of myself. I wouldn't get used to these super fast updates though, as I don't have anything written up for about another two chapters. In case any of you were wondering, the second flashback, centered in 2010, was Link and Zelda from their college days. Consequentially, Beyond Bizarre Bakery and that entire scene were taken from another story of mine that I've just recently posted called The Days in February, another modern-day Link and Zelda fic. Except February is much fluffier and far more humorous as opposed to dark, as this story is. I hope you enjoyed this update!

reviewpuh-leaseIluffyew?

-Cappucinno


	4. Dust Yourself Off

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not mine, with the exception of Shane. I own nada, except for Shane. I don't own Hyrule, only Shane.

* * *

**First and Foremost**  
by Cappucinno

**BASELINE: DUST YOURSELF OFF**

* * *

**December 16, 2016—8:30 a.m.  
**_1904 Castle Street_

If there had been anything that he had been expecting when he slipped into the backdoor of Zelda's apartment, it hadn't been this. In fact, he had been betting on the fact that he'd have a good two hours to collect his thoughts and enjoy his silence. And then Zelda would wake up—sobbing, maybe?—or just in the slump that she seemed to have fallen into.

He hadn't been expecting a fully furnished, freshly cleaned, open-windowed living room. He hadn't expected to find Zelda Harkinian, for no doubt this wasn't the Princess, perched on the back of her sofa, reading a newspaper and sipping at her coffee.

Sheik stood in the entryway of the side entrance, one boot-clad foot paused in the air. Besides the fact that he looked like he'd been frozen in time, there were no signs that Sheik was surprised. Zelda glanced up, raising a brow at his odd posture, her lips piquing upwards into an utterly amused smile.

"Sheik," She greeted, before her lips pressed into a firm line and it looked like she was doing her best not to start laughing. "Would you mind taking your shoes off? Just mopped and swept this morning, y'know?"

She turned her attention back to the headlines of her newspaper and Sheik obediently followed her instructions. She didn't miss the odd glance he shot in her direction as he knelt down to begin swiftly undoing the laces of his boots. Goddesses only knew why the man insisted on wearing them.

He was her head of security for heaven sakes, not a desert nomad. But they all had their quirks, so he was forgiven for his… more than unusual taste in clothing. Malon had an obsession with horses, Midna had always complained when it was too sunny, Ruto couldn't stop drinking water, and Zelda… well.

She liked to think that she was fairly normal.

"Princess," Sheik began as he rose, only to be cut off as Zelda raised her mug to her lips once more, cocking her head at him in an innocent manner.

"Coffee?" She queried, and before Sheik could even respond she was ushering him into the kitchen with her rolled up newspaper, ignoring his indignant protests. "Oh come _on,_ indulge me. Pretend that you're normal."

Sheik sighed in aggravation as a cup of sloshing coffee was shoved into his hands, no cream and no sugar. Just the way he liked it. The head of security eyed the blonde, his wine red eyes narrowing in obvious irritation as he grudgingly accepted her offering.

"Thank you." He said dryly, clearly not amused. "Now, princess—"

"So, how's the place look? I went out shopping last night." Zelda said in a conversational tone, looking perhaps the best that he'd seen her since she'd been with Link. Her hair had been fashioned into a stylish updo, a few strands left alone to frame her heart shaped face. Her eyes held no trace of the shadows that had been haunting her for the past few weeks and—was that lip gloss?

"It looks…" Sheik paused, glancing around the small kitchenette and living room area. Dark wood furniture and white cushions. White curtains. White rugs. White flowers. "White."

"White, huh?" Zelda asked, hmming thoughtfully to herself as she turned to investigate. "Well, I was going for clean. But I guess white works."

"Princess—" Sheik began for the umpenteeth time, gritting his teeth as he was cut off yet again by the young woman.

"Did you see the painting over by the armchair?" Zelda asked, towing her long time friend back to the living room to demonstrate her latest acquisition. At the mention of a painting Sheik sighed and turned, fully expecting to see some rendition of a regal tapestry or an ancient portrait of one of her ancestors.

He was greeted by a mess of painted blobs of color that looked like a five year old had dumped onto the canvas. He fixed his charge with an incredulous look as she admired the 'painting', a quirky smile tugging at her lips as she took a sip of coffee.

"So, thoughts?" Zelda asked, looking over at him with that innocent expression on her face.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Zelda?" Sheik asked, his face carefully blank as he regarded the blonde's expression.

Her face was schooled into a mask of indifference, though he could full well see the crinkling of her eyes in silent laughter and the way her lips pursed in an attempt to keep herself from bursting into laughter.

"I agree, it _is_ a nice painting isn't it?" She finally said, turning to admire the hideous blobs of color once more as Sheik shook his head at the young woman. "Well, enough of that. Let's get down to business."

"What? To defeat the Huns?" Sheik said, rolling his eyes at the blonde. He was met with an indignant 'hey!' and she winced as he felt something hard collide with the back of his head.

The Sheikah turned to regard Zelda, looking thoroughly un-amused as she stood there with her rolled up newspaper. The man's expression was sour in response to Zelda's own clearly amused expression.

"Wimp." Zelda accused, striking the Sheikah once more.

"You're just immature." Sheik shot back, scowling darkly. Zelda hit him again, dancing backwards out of his reach as he moved to disarm the blonde woman.

"Say it again," Zelda taunted, a humorously large grin lighting up her face. "I dare you."

She made an 'o' with her lips, gasping an pretending to be shocked at her own behavior. Sheik couldn't help but smirk, looking imperious as he shot her a pointedly amused look.

"You," He began, grinning at the gasp he drew from the blonde. "Are the most immature young woman I have ever met."

He pretended to flinch away from the newspaper as Zelda gasped again.

"And," He added. "Your painting looks like shit."

He deftly jerked the newspaper from Zelda's grip crowing with triumph as he bounded across the living room, neatly hurling over the couch. The blonde scrambled after him, socked feet sliding chaotically over the stunningly clean wooden floors.

Zelda stumbled to catch her footing, bracing herself against the couch as she quickly grabbed a cushion, getting into a mock battle stance. Sheik braced himself at the opposite end of the couch, newspaper still in hand.

Neither moved.

"What are you, scared?" Zelda taunted, a smug look on her face. "Bring it blondie!"

* * *

"That," Sheik said, panting heavily as he crumpled into a sitting position beside Zelda. "Was not behavior befitting of a princess."

Zelda relished in the astonished 'oof' and splutter of indignation that came from Sheik as she smacked her pillow into his face, grinning triumphantly. At Sheik's glower she merely shrugged, doing her best to pull off the whole 'innocent' act.

"I win." She said, allowing her head to fall back against the wall, eyes sliding shut. It was only then that Sheik noticed how tired his friend actually was. Zelda's face had grown thin and her lips were parted as her lungs greedily inhaled air. A two-hour pillow war was enough to tire anybody out, but when was the last time that Zelda had gone on a walk?

She'd spent about three weeks in a catatonic state, seemingly glued to her bed. She'd gone outside once or twice—but only to get the mail—and the last time she'd taken a walk was when she'd accompanied him from her office building to his car to be driven home. She'd been granted a sick leave.

Sheik didn't know why Zelda insisted on even having job—she had all the money she could possibly want—but Zelda was a stubborn girl and so they'd all relented and let her work. It wasn't like Zelda to shirk her duties, but then again, she wasn't exactly capable of doing any work when she could hardly bring herself to stop sobbing.

"Fine," Sheik relented, flinching as Zelda raised her pillow again, daring him to tell her that she hadn't been the winner of their impromptu pillow-fight. "You win."

He couldn't help but smile as she settled back comfortably against the wall, hugging the pillow to her too-slim frame. She looked peaceful. With the light falling across her face he noticed the hint of darkness just beneath her eyes, he hadn't noticed earlier. She'd probably attempted to cover it up with make-up.

"Princess—" He was cut off by a soft but firm voice and when he looked to Zelda he almost missed the tenseness around her jaw.

"Sheik." She opened her eyes and a startlingly wounded azure gaze met his own. "Don't you remember that I was Zelda Harkinian before I was ever a princess?"

Sheik wanted to open his mouth and protest—to say that wasn't how he meant it. To say that technically she was not _a_ princess she was _the_ Princess and that she was _born _to be _the _Princess, and then he stopped. The stubborn set of her jaw and her wounded expression allowed a ridiculous bloom of hope to swell in his chest.

Link the Hero and Zelda the Princess had never been strong enough to change the course of their destiny. But maybe Link Ordon and Zelda Harkinian—the people—were.

"Well then, Zelda Harkinian." Sheik began formally, laughing and batting her pillow away as she rolled her eyes. "Might I ask what brought about this sudden change."

"I told you." Her voice was strong, no longer faint as it had been, and she climbed to her feet, proudly perching her hands upon her hips and bending over to look down at him. "_I _am Zelda Harkinian. And Zelda Harkinian does not have time to mope."

"Glad to hear it, Zelda." Sheik said, smiling up at the blonde princess. "Does Zelda Harkinian have time to start working on the details of Princess Zelda's press release?"

"No," Zelda said evenly, ignoring Sheik's paternal look of disagreement. Her gaze drifted up to the ceiling as she straightened up, once more hmming to herself as she mulled something over in her mind. "Zelda Harkinian would much rather work on her own press release."

Sheik would later kick himself for being foolish enough to believe her smiles and light-hearted games, not once pausing to think that she was using it to cover something up. Just like she'd hidden the dark circles underneath her eyes.

* * *

**December 15, 2016—10:45 p.m.  
**_Oak's Bar and Grill_

Link stepped out of his car, a beat up hand-me down Acura that had once been pretty glamorous, and onto the curb looking for a head of red hair. To his irritation there was a huge swarm of people at Oak's that night, making it damn near impossible for him to move more than an inch at a time. He sighed as he made his way to the entrance of bar, defensively crossing his arms to deflect the bodies continually knocking into him.

When someone's hand landed on his jacket he nearly missed it, brushing it off as just some random stranger. However when someone grabbed the back of his jacket and all but towed him out of the crowd, he noticed. He stumbled forward to regain his balance, catching himself on some newspaper stand as he turned around, cobalt eyes narrowed in indignation.

"Goddesses, Link. You look like shit." Malon said, pretty lips pursed in distaste as her green eyes raked over him, brows furrowing as she did so. "Yuck. What is _that_?" The redhead asked, pointing at his well-worn and slightly-holey gray jacket.

"What?" Link asked, defensively crossing his arms over the material of his favorite jacket. "It's my favorite jacket."

Malon fixed him with an incredulous look, as if she were trying to decide whether or not she actually believed him. Link sighed in an aggravated manner, feeling the chill of the night air beginning to seep into his clothes. Malon was wearing what looked like some equestrian riding get-up. She looked like she didn't even notice that it was freezing.

"Okay, get in the taxi." Malon instructed, jerking her thumb in the direction of the yellow cab that Link hadn't even noticed until she'd pointed it out. "We've got a lot to talk about."

There were a hundred reasons that Link could have turned around and got back into his car.

It was cold. He didn't much like Malon. Shane would skin him alive for talking to his long-time unrequited love. Link didn't like taxis. Malon insulted his favorite jacket. He would have preferred to go mope. Malon hadn't said anything about Zelda. It was too late to be going anywhere.

But there was nagging feeling in his chest, that familiar age-old gut-instinct that urged him onwards and Link got into the taxi. He knew better than to ignore his instincts. Following them had saved his hide on more than one occasion. They had saved him from getting caught when he snuck out, they kept him away from the movie theater the night there was a shooting, they told him when he should act and in what manner. And, most importantly, following them had lead him to Zelda.

So when every fiber of his being told him to shut up and get into the taxi, he was an obedient follower. He slammed the door shut and turned to Malon, mouth open to say something when he was abruptly cut off by a flash of metal.

"Woah, lady!" The driver said, clearly panicked. "Be careful with that!"

Malon ignored him as she held the impressive piece of metal out, palms up. Link seemed to move without thinking, his hands slowly reaching for the sword being offered to him. Malon watched silently as Link took the blade from her, her expression grim as she caught the glimpse of immediate recognition in Link's cobalt eyes.

The hilt of the sword glowed dimly, illuminating a long-forgotten family crest that had once meant the world to the people of Hyrule.

"I thought as much." Malon breathed, running a hand through her hair. Link looked up to meet her gaze, still reverently holding the sword. "Well, congratulations Link."

"Wha—?" Link turned to the redhead, lips parted in silent question. The metal in his hands was smooth as silk and cold to the touch—he got the immediate impression that there had once been blood on the blade—crafted with deadly elegance and terrifying perfection.

"I'll explain later, Hero." Malon said, turning to the window. She hadn't wanted to believe Sheik, wanted desperately to believe it was all a coincidence, but she knew better than that. She'd been trained better than that, at the very least.

They spent the duration of the ride in an uncomfortable silence with the driver making clumsy attempts at conversations every once in a while. Link was suddenly reminded of why he hated taxis so much.

* * *

"Wait, Malon, what am I doing?" Link asked, not for the first time as the two stood in the center of what looked to be a giant wooden arena. He hadn't the slightest clue how Malon had found the place and he wasn't even going to ask how she knew her way around so well.

"I can't tell you that." Malon explained irritably, hands on her hips as she glowered at the frustrating blonde that reminded her eerily of Zelda. "Now come on. Start."

"But this is stupid," Link protested, awkwardly waving the sword in his hands about. "And _pointless_."

"Shut up." Malon instructed as she set her foot on top of a cuckoo-cage, discretely undoing the latch. "Link, if you don't start now, I'm going to _make_ you."

"Malon, this is fucking _retarded_." Link protested, and before he could comprehend what was going on he heard a foreign sound. "What?"

The young man glanced down and Malon's expression became smug as he spewed a long string of curses. "Shit! Ow!" The redhead didn't even try to keep herself from laughing as Link started sprinting frantically, cuckoos pecking at his heels as he went. Malon collapsed into a fit of giggles, watching the young man blitz through the arena.

Link, on the other hand, wasn't nearly as amused. He cursed again as one of cuckoos pecked his heels and immediately picked up the pace, determined to get the insufferable animals off of him. The breeze whipped strands of messy blonde hair in front of his eyes and he narrowly avoided colliding with a wooden pole as he ran, damning the fact that he couldn't see past his bangs.

When was the last time he'd gotten a hair cut, anyways?

The wind rushed past him and for a second he felt that he almost _flying_. He'd done this before, he was sure of it, except he hadn't been on his feet and there hadn't been birds chasing him. But, _when_?

He could almost see it now, almost taste the hay in the air, there had been a horse. A brown and white one that had been even larger than him. Completely in love with carrots. But that was ridiculous and impossible, because he'd never ridden a horse in his life.

"Gotta be faster than that, Link!" Malon chorused cheerfully. Link didn't even bother to look back over his shoulder to glower at the redhead.

"'_Gotta be faster than that, Link!' _Hmph. I'd like to you see you try." The blonde groused, scoffing under his breath as he picked up speed. He almost missed the stack of hay in front of him and he hurriedly recounted the sexual expeditions of manure as he hurdled over the innocent stack of hay, whipping his head back around to glare at Malon. "What the hell was that?"

He hardly had enough time to finish closing his mouth before he rapidly found himself careening backwards and he stabbed the sword into the ground to the catch himself. Malon shouted some apology and Link rolled his eyes, pulling himself back up.

He lasted about five seconds before his ass met the ground again and the blonde seethed, once more attempting to pull himself back up. The third time he caught the flash of silver and instinctively rolled backwards and into a standing position, wrenching the sword out of the ground.

Every muscle in his body was tense, acutely aware that he and Malon were no longer alone. He caught the sound of faint applause and, grating as it was, pushed it to the back of his mind, begging himself to focus. He could almost visualize the angry blue light scolding him and telling him to concentrate. But that was crazy. Because light couldn't ta—the blonde staggered backwards as something collided with his chest and he forced the pain from his mind, cobalt blue eyes desperately searching for something.

There. He caught that flash of silver once more and he swung his sword, wincing as there was a loud clash of metal meeting metal. He focused further and through the shadows he could see a figure—a woman?

"This is what you give me to work with?" The voice asked, and it was low—dangerous, something in Link's mind told him—but still feminine. Suddenly the tension in the sword was gone and Link's head whipped back around as he felt a presence just to his left.

A woman, to be sure. She was dressed in a black uniform, forearms and calves covered in protective plating. Her hair was a gray unbefitting for age, leaving Link to believe that it had always been that color. She was older than he, but no older than fifty. Perhaps in her late forties.

"You can handle it, right Im'?" Malon asked, her voice light and playful. For some reason Link wasn't shocked to discover that they'd known each other.

_Impa._ Something in his mind supplied, but he remained wisely silent, focusing on the mysterious woman. Thoughts of Zelda were far from his mind at the moment. There was something ancient and timeless and familiar guiding him, puppeteering his body as he swung his sword.

_This is familiar_, something stirred within him, _I've done this before._

"I've seen worse." Impa assented and Link belatedly realized that it was a compliment.

He moved backwards as Impa came towards him again, but this time she had a sword in tow. He moved backwards again as she struck, his sword blocking her advances. Back, parry, shuffle to the side, parry, forward—faster!, strike, move backwards. His body fell into an easy rhythm that he could have kept up all night, it was so _natural_.

Impa's face gave nothing away as she moved towards the young man, swinging her blade yet again at his side. He was quick to block it, his body moving easily to the rhythm of some long forgotten beat. Her eyes narrowed slightly as he moved forward to hit her once more and she went through the motions of blocking before realizing that he'd shifted position.

With an elegance that only came with practice she easily turned, catching his blade with her own. There was a pause as the two made eye contact and in that moment Impa was made a believer. She stepped back, disengaging her blade, and sheathed her sword.

She was well aware of his ragged breathing and as she silently surveyed the young man she mentally noted that he would likely be quite sore the following morning. His mind may have known the dance of the blades, but his body wasn't used to it. He was still an amateur. Not bad, but definitely not excellent. For a beginner though, Impa grudgingly allowed, he was pretty decent.

She wasn't sure whether to credit that to the young man himself or the Hero's blood in his veins. She personally believed it to be the Hero. This man—no, this _boy_—knew nothing of the arts of war.

"Name." She instructed firmly, noting that Link's posture was still rigid, even as he sheathed his blade. Her eyes narrowed once more as she observed the familiar blade. There was no doubt in her mind that he was the one.

"Link Ordon." He responded, and Impa nodded, an amused smile curling on her lips. She was surprised as his voice filled the air once more and she raised a brow at the young man, noting that his posture was still stiff. Was he angry? "_What_ is so funny?"

At that Impa actually chuckled, covering up the sound with her fist as the boy before her scowled darkly. Link crossed his arms and turned away from the woman, cobalt eyes sliding accusingly over to Malon.

"Not very original, now are we? Very well then, Link_ Ordon_." Impa said, drawing his attention back to the mysterious woman. "From this day on you are my pupil. Report here again tomorrow. Same time. If you make me wait, I can promise you the repercussions will not be light."

Before Link could protest Impa had vanished, once more melding into the shadows and disappearing. He noted idly that that should surprise him, yet the sight was as familiar to him as the door of his apartment. Strange.

"You didn't do bad." He seemed to be ignoring her. Not that she could really blame him, but the red-head sighed heavily nonetheless. "Seriously? You're mad at me?"

Link crossed his arms again and gave her that _look_. The one Zelda wore when she was clearly unhappy with one of Malon's pranks. It made her wonder who had grotten it from whom. Malon couldn't help but roll her eyes and before Link could blink she smacked the side of his head.

"Shit!" The blonde hissed, rubbing his head as Malon smirked smugly. Damn her. "What was _that_ for?"

"Look here, buck-o," Malon began, all too satisfied by the rapidly forming scowl on Link's face. Really, he was too easy to get too. No wonder Zelda was his voice of reason. "As the personal guard-in-training for the princess of Hyrule, you have no right to be using that kind of language."

"Well look here, carrot-top," Link countered. "I can say whatever the hell I wa—_what_?"

Malon sighed in a satisfied manner as she tuned out all of his indignant sputterings and accusations, followed finally by questions. All of which she chose to ignore. She got the strangest feeling that Zelda would have a similar reaction upon hearing the news.

"C'mon fairy boy. Get yer ass in the cab."

Fairy boy. Where had that come from?

* * *

**A/N:** There you go. A special treat for all of my reviewers in the form of a lightning-fast update. Sadly, I think that'll be the last of the lightning-speed ones to come before we gardually ease back into our every few weeks to a every other month update schedule. Never fear, this is only the beggining of the problems for our two favorite characters! Hopefully they'll get to reunite in a chapter or so, but be forewarned: it won't be rainbows and sunshine for these two just yet.

reviewpuh-leaseIluffyew?

-Cappucinno


	5. A Christmas Interlude

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not mine, with the exception of Shane. I own nada, except for Shane. I don't own Hyrule, only Shane.

* * *

**First and Foremost**  
by Cappucinno

**BASELINE: A CHRISTMAS INTERLUDE**

* * *

_**December 25, 2010—9 p.m.  
**__The Old Apartment_

_Laughter filled the air of the apartment that Link and Zelda shared, happy voices mingling together to create an environment that reminded Link distinctly of family. The blonde's cobalt eyes met Zelda's own violet-blue ones and grins spread across both of their faces, though Zelda's attention was soon drawn away again by the occupants of their small and unusually cluttered kitchen. The blonde haired young man crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side, leaning casually against the doorway as he observed the scene playing out in his kitchen._

_Sheik was leaning against a counter, one tanned hand stirring what looked like some of honey glaze on the stovetop. His usually serious red eyes were relaxed and there was a hint of what could only be described as fondness swimming behind them. Malon was elbow-deep in a batch of cookie dough, chattering animatedly over her shoulder to Zelda about holiday music._

_Shane was fussing over the Christmas ham, arguing one-sidedly with a neutral Sheik over whether they needed cranberry relish or not—he claimed to have some allergy to honey. Ruto was guzzling water and fanning herself with a cookbook whining that, _honestly_, Zelda _really_ needed to get a humidifier or_ something_ because her apart was_ bone-dry_._

_Zelda, in turn, had her hands on her hips, obscured by a pair of obnoxiously large blue oven-mitts. The blonde was sporting a quarter-sleeved white v-neck and a pair of time-worn jeans. Of course, one would hardly notice that with the fact that she was wearing a Pillsbury doughboy apron and a pair of large bunny slippers. Despite having donned her baking wear, Zelda seemed to be merely supervising the creation of Christmas dinner. A warm flush graced her cheeks as the young woman was laughed merrily at something Malon was saying. _

"_Okay, really, can we please just make some cranberry relish?"_

"_Zellie, I hate this song! Ugh, Silver Bells my ass." The redhead groaned, and no doubt she would have been gesturing her disgust in theatrical movement—as it was she only viciously set to kneading what was apparently snicker-doodle batter. _

"_People passing, people laughing, meeting smile after smile…" Zelda sang, joined by an enthusiastic Shane, and another loud complaint from Malon. "Oh come on, Malon. Where's your holiday spirit?"_

_"Okay I backed you up. Now, please can we make the relish? I swear to Nayru, I'm not even joking, honey gives me hives!"_

"_I've got plenty!" Malon retorted, yanking one hand from the batter and waving her arm in the air. "I just don't like this song! It's Dean Martin. Seriously, that song is made to be sang by a choir, not a soloist."_

"_Well, I, for one," Link cut in, draping an arm over Zelda's shoulder and setting his chin on the top of her head. "Like this version of it better."_

"_You are just bitter that no one liked your rendition of it last year, Malon." Sheik commented in his usual dry-tone, eliciting a dark blush from the aforementioned redhead. "To be perfectly fair though, you did have a rather dreadful cold at the time."_

"_Dude, Sheik, I'm not kidding. Hives, man. Hives!"_

"_I thought we all agreed not to talk about that!" The redhead shrieked, turning her back on her friends in order to pulverize the decidedly innocent cookie-dough. When her good graces had returned enough to allow her to lower her voice the redhead looked back over her shoulder at Sheik, her cheeks a flaming red despite the threatening set of her green eyes. "You'd better watch out, Sheik. I'm gonna get you one of these days."_

"_I look forward to getting acquainted with the business end of your riding crop," Sheik said nonchalantly, though Link was certain he was smirking behind his crimson scarf. "Just not as hard as you ride your horses, okay? I can't go that fast, I'm only bendy."_

_There was a moment of stunned silence in the kitchen, Malon's eyes having gone round as saucers and her mouth falling open in a stellar impression of a landed fish. Zelda's own vivid lavender eyes were wide and Shane had finally shut up about being allergic to honey. Link appeared to be choking on air and he hit his chest with his fist a few times to right his breathing again._

_Sheik looked calm as ever as he glanced around the kitchen, one brow raised in a daring manner. "…Did I say something wrong?" The red-eyed man asked, though in Link's opinion he knew full well why they were all shocked. After a moment noise slowly began to trickle back into the atmosphere._

"_No, we just ah…" Shane trailed off awkwardly. _

"_Ooh, I like the Rosemary Clooney version!" Malon chimed in, her own nervous laughter filling the air. There was another awkwardly pause, but Zelda looked at Malon in an indulgent manner, having already recovered from Sheik's unexpected in-your-endo. "You know, Silver Bells?"_

"_Hmm, she's not half-bad is she?" Zelda commented offhandedly, leaning absentmindedly into Link's chest and curling an arm around his waist. "Oh, Sheik, can you take the ham out? I think there's already honey-glaze on it."_

"_Shane, get me more water!"_

* * *

_A few hours later found Link and Zelda sprawled out on top of their shared bed, the warm glow of firelight petering under the crack of their bedroom door. Link was laying on his side, handsome features slackened and the barest of smiles curling at his thin lips. His unruly locks of blonde hair fell over his forehead, a few strands just barely grazing his shut eyelids. _

_In the background "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas", the Judy Garland version, was still playing. Someone must have forgotten to turn the iPod off._

_Zelda brushed a hesitant hand over the home-made red knit sweater that Malon had made for him and a tender smile tugged at her own lips. Link had a way with making himself adored. Her hair fanned out around her in an imitation of a halo as she edged herself closer to her best friend. She sighed contently as she tucked her face into Link's chest and his arms wrapped instinctively around her smaller frame. Even in his sleep he seemed to be able to read Zelda's mind. Zelda's smile softened slightly and she curled herself up against Link, sighing peacefully. _

_Slowly, and ever so delicately, she pressed a tender kiss to Link's lips, fingertips grazing the handsome curve of his cheek. "Merry Christmas," Zelda breathed against his lips as she drew her hand down past his jawline and to its resting place atop his chest. She sighed at the warmth and rush of comfort that bubbled up within her and allowed her eyes to slide close and her mind to wander off into the peaceful depths of slumber._

_Link's lips formed a complete smile and his arms tightened around the sleeping young woman. His cobalt eyes opened sleepily as he kissed the young woman's forehead in a chaste gesture._

"_Merry Christmas, Zel."_

* * *

_Outside the music shut off and a red-eyed young man stepped guiltily away from the bedroom door. He shut it gently with the toe of his boot and moved slowly across the small living room. There was a distinct sadness in his aged eyes as Sheik sat down heavily upon the arm of the sofa. A slight shifting noise caught his attention and he turned to the head of red hair that had popped out from the bundle of blankets. Sheik sighed as his eyes met a pair of tear-stained green ones and his hand smoothed Malon's hair back in a comforting motion. _

_"We can never get what we want, can we?" Malon's voice was a hoarse whisper and the smile that curled on her lips was a bitter one, filled with the sorrow of a hundred loveless lives. Somehow she knew instinctively that Sheik was no different from herself in terms of unreturned feelings. "They can only belong to each other, even if it means they'll be miserable. Don't _we _matter? Why do they have to keep dragging us back? I'm so sick of it. Why bother if we can't even get a chance to be happy?"_

_"Fate is a cruel mistress to us all," Sheik responded, failing to mask the bitterness in his voice. There was another still moment in the apartment and the fire crackled loudly in the background. Someone sighed and the fire was put out, throwing the room into shadows, with only the embers for light. "We can only hope that things will be different."_

_"...Sheik?"_

_"Hm?"_

_"Thank you.__"_

_"...Merry Christmas, Malon."_

_"You too, Sheik."_**

* * *

**

**A/N**: I'm almost, but not quite done, with the next chapter. Sorry for the long wait, but this next chapter is an important one and it's one I'd like to make as perfect as possible, since it'll be setting the stage for the remainder of our story. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this brief little interlude, and I apologize for making you wait so long only to supply with you another flashback.

As always, I'd love it if you guys reviewed, as it gives me inspiration to keep going.

Also, do you guys still want to see flashbacks? I was going to put one in every chapter, but if you would all rather just see what's happening in present in the story, just let me know. Your feedback will be very appreciated.

Constructive criticism is always welcome.

-Cappucinno


	6. Ghosts of the Past

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not mine, with the exception of Shane. I own nada, except for Shane. I don't own Hyrule, only Shane.

* * *

**First and Foremost**  
by Cappucinno

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX: GHOSTS OF THE PAST**

* * *

**December 16, 2016—4 a.m.  
**The Entrance Chamber, Hyrule Castle

The entrance chamber of the Chateau of Hyrule was indeed a formidable structure. The hallway had been erected with pillars of marble and gold, likely imported hundreds of years ago from the vast reaches of the Gerudo desert. The floors were, in turn, paved with a majestic marble and granite, freshly waxed for the new heir of Hyrule's arrival. The chamber was narrow and spanned the length of about half a city block, scattered pedestals with empty vases upon each one telling that the hallway had been freshly cleared. The walls were lined with bronze sconces, containing red cinnamon-scented candles that had only just been recently lit. The candlelight made the room seem almost _ominous_, in that the areas that Sheik knew to be white appearing instead as a muted red-orange, not unlike the blood-red skies from oh-so long ago.

The hall also, Sheik noted, had some fantastic acoustics. With each measured step the young man took the hallway echoed in formidable response, despite the fact that his footfalls were normally as silent as a cat's.

"Perhaps," The young man mused aloud. "This would be better suited as a concert hall."

The sudden opening of the two oak doors made an ear-splitting creaking noise, followed soon by a familiar nervous laugh. With a sigh Sheik turned neatly on his heel, hands clasped behind his back, to face the young woman who seemed to have been trying to hunt him down for the past few months. In his typical manner, the blonde raised a brow in a quizzical manner, his lips piquing up into a two-parts amused one-part annoyed smile.

"There you are," Malon breathed in a relieved tone. "I'd hoped to find you here. Goddesses, I've been looking all over the place for you!"

"My apologies," Sheik said in a manner that suggested he was not at all sorry. "I have a poor habit of making myself scarce."

"Yeah," The redhead responded exasperatedly. "I can see that."

Silence settled over the hallway once again, interrupted only by the echoes of Sheik's slow strides. The seemingly ageless man made his way to the opposite end of the hallway, wine-red eyes falling upon the ancient tapestries that had been strung along the walls. Malon's eyes followed the world-weary figure and she cautiously approached him, as if he might disappear if she moved too quickly.

Sheik made no move to acknowledge her presence as he slid a leather-gloved hand tentatively forward to touch one of the tapestries. It didn't so much as ripple under his touch and Malon was vaguely reminded of the ghost stories she'd once heard of as a young child. That, of course, was ridiculous, seeing as Sheik was very much alive.

"These tapestries," He began abruptly. "Hold almost all of Hyrule's history. The tales of the ill-fated Princess and her Hero from beginning to end." The tanned man paused and laughed shortly, as if he were greatly amused by something. "Well, almost." He amended. "Some things were apparently either too gory or too scandalous to include."

Malon was silent for a moment, regarding Sheik's apparent thoughtful expression with a considering look. The red-eyed man made no move to fill in the unbroken silence of the hushed hallway, merely watching the tapestry his fingertips brushed against as if at any moment the words might suddenly shift and rearrange themselves to tell another story.

"There's something else that they don't mention," Malon began, and for once her voice rose nothing above a whisper that was astonishingly small in the room. "Something very important."

Sheik's red eyes fell suddenly upon her, narrowed in warning as he set his jaw in a reproving motion. Malon steadily turned her head to meet his gaze, her own green eyes filled with emotions that the Sheikah both feared and dreaded respectively. Fondness and pity.

"There are some things, Miss Lon," Sheik said, and the very tone of his voice was disapproving and threatening all at once. "That are better off buried and forgotten."

"You, Sheik." Malon said, as if she'd never heard him at all. She waved a hand at the extravagant tapestries just behind them as she spoke, her voice becoming less hushed and more fervent as she went on. "They say nothing of you. And you," The red-eyed young man flinched away from her gaze at the reverence in her voice. "You should never have been forgotten."

The blonde-haired man remained silent, looking distinctly pained as he dropped his gaze to the elegant floor-tiles. He shifted the crimson scarf that obscured the lower portion of his face and then readjusted the dark brown coat he had donned that morning, turning on his heel away from the earnest red-head. Malon stepped along with him one hand landing on his arm to gently tug him back to face her. She seemed unconcerned with the fact that the blonde refused to face her and went on speaking, never letting her hand drop from the Sheikah's arm.

"Things are different now, Sheik. Can't you see it?" Her voice had dropped back into a passionate whisper that made the reclusive blonde uneasy. "You're here for a reason. You, you're capable of changing _everything_."

"Malon, you should not—" Sheik was cut off by the red-head once again and her hand tightened on his arm.

"You were the missing piece; _you're_ the one that can bring us together. Don't you see?" Malon's voice shifted into her normal speaking voice, far too loud for the stellar acoustics of the hallway. "I-I've never met you before this life, but you're as much a part of this all as I am. As _she_ is. As _he _is. I can feel it Sheik. You must've been with us all before. Maybe at the very beginning, when things were rig—"

"Things have never been right." Sheik cut back in and Malon was startled by the aggression in his voice.

"Sheik?"

"Not in this lifetime. Not even at the very beginning." The blonde glowered at the redhead, his hands falling to grip her shoulders as he leaned forward to speak. His words were hardly more than a hiss from behind the scarf. "And since you're so _curious_, Miss Lon," He seethed. "I'll tell you just what happened to me when I lived amongst those of your world."

Malon had opened her mouth to speak again but was stopped by the pools of unadulterated _hatred_ just beyond the familiar crimson gaze of her friend. There was a feeling of dread that swept over her as quickly and as silently as a shadow and fear made her blood run cold.

"I _died_, Malon." Sheik hissed. "I _died_ to ensure that the Princess would live meet the man she would grow to love, but never live happily with. And I loved her as well. Enough to take the blade intended to cut her life down, instead of live. And what did I get for that? That _devil's _sword cut my soul right out of my body and I had to _watch _them. I had to _protect _him long enough for her to love him and for him to fuck up and _die _instead of save us all_. _I never asked to be remembered. I never asked to be brought back. All I wanted was to rest, but instead here I am with the chance to be here to do it _all over again_."

"Sheik," Malon's voice was strained and the red-eyed man pushed her roughly away, yanking the scarf down to reveal a contemptuous sneer. "I-I didn't know."

"Don't dally in things you know nothing of, little girl." Sheik growled, and his voice was not that of the soft-eyed man that Malon had known before. This person standing before her was a stranger, a bitter and horribly hurt stranger. "Don't bother lying to yourself and twisting your feelings to pity a dead man. Better to waste your affection on the _Hero_. At least he'll live a while longer, right?"

"It doesn't have to be like that," Malon whispered, tears choking up her voice as she moved slowly back to the red-eyed figure she knew to be Sheik. "We are not _them._" She said earnestly, fisting her hands in the material of Sheik's brown coat. "You don't have to throw your life away. Link won't—he won't mess this up."

She was met with only a warning glare, but she ignored it, choosing instead to pull herself closer to Sheik, bumping her chest against his.

"_I_, for one, am not _her_. I don't love Link. _She_ does. The Malon that lived a long, long, long time ago loved him. Me? I don't love him anymore. I _did_, once, but that was a long time ago." Malon continued on, her tear-moistened green eyes searching the unfathomable depths of Sheik's eyes desperately for a flicker of _something_. The emotion was so fast and so fleeting that she almost missed it, but there were remnants of what had once been fondness in his claret eyes. "You were always there for us, all of us. You helped me when he broke my heart. And, somehow, over the years, I keep thinking back to you and—"

There was another lapse of silence and the beginnings of a bitter smile tugged at Malon's lips.

"Only ever you." The red-head sighed as she reveled in the warmth of Sheik's chest. He made no move to pull her closer or push her away and for that Malon laughed breathily into his coat, a bitter and remorseful sound. "If only you could see me with a fraction of the regard you have for her. I mean, she's my best friend, and I love her but still… don't the rest of us deserve a shot too?"

Her fingertips gingerly landed upon the Sheikah's face, tilting it down towards her own. She smiled brokenly at the impassive expression on the blonde man's face as she felt her throat close up and a single tear slide down her cheek. She hadn't expected declarations of love or emphatic enthusiasm from the enigma known as Sheik, but to see how completely uncaring and unaffected he was hurt more than his rejection.

"I think," Sheik began evenly, gently detaching Malon's hands from his face and stepping back in a guarded manner. "That you should leave now."

"Sheik, I—"

"Leave." Sheik appeared to have not heard her as she spoke, his eyes distant and his mind a thousand years away from the present. "They are not pleased with your words."

* * *

**December 17, 2016—7 a.m.  
**1904 Castle Street

Talking to yourself was never a good sign. This was something that Zelda had to remind herself of almost non-stop as she glared her own reflection down, ignoring the fact that she was dead tired and wanted nothing more than to just go and curl up in her bed.

Her hair had been hastily put up, though a few stray locks fell over her face, and she was wearing only a large shirt—either Link's or Sheik's, but she was fairly sure it was Link's since it was forest green—and a white cotton robe. Her favorite pair of bunny slippers were, surprisingly, still at the old apartment since she'd apparently forgotten about them in her haste to pack up and leave.

Of course, thoughts of her hasty department—nineteen days and twenty-two hours ago, not that she was counting—were far from her mind at the moment. Her chillingly blue eyes stared steadily back at their reflection in the mirror, her hands braced on the gold gilding of the ancient family heirloom.

It was strange, because she remembered that at one point in time her eyes had been a lavender-blue instead of glacial blue. But that probably had something to do with the current situation.

"Get out of my head." Zelda said in the most threatening voice she could possibly muster, half-expecting her reflection to step out of the mirror and start talking to her. When there was no response the blonde returned to glaring balefully at the glass, brows drawn into a tight frown. "Don't ignore me. I said get _out_."

"_You are surely aware that that isn't a polite thing to say to the Princess of Hyrule."_ Came the response, finally, in a voice that was her own and yet not. It was a voice that sounded infinitely older, wiser, and more fragile. But it was undoubtedly her own.

"I honestly don't really care _who_ you are. I'm the Princess of Hyrule, and as far as I'm concerned, you're the one out of line." Zelda ground out in an exasperated manner, still glaring at her reflection. "Did I invite you into my brain? No. Get out."

"_You're not taking this very well are you?"_ The voice now sounded distinctly amused.

"Out."

"_Where is he?"_

The voice continued on and somehow Zelda knew exactly who it was referring to. The blonde also knew that she should give herself—no, the voice, just a voice—an answer. And yet, she found that she was dreading doing so.

"_Zelda." _

Panicking.

"_Zelda."_

Guilty.

"_Zelda."_ The voice called out once more, calm and controlled in ways that she was not, and Zelda watched in a horrified manner as the blue in her eyes intensified. _"Zelda, where is he?"_

Finally, Zelda summoned up her courage and stared directly into her own eyes, watching as the ice completely overwhelmed the lavender that she knew to represent herself.

"He's gone." She answered defiantly, once more firmly reminding herself that if she was talking to _herself_ then she was probably going insane.

"_Gone?"_ The voice sounded strangely small and fragile, despite the maddening calm tone. _"The Hero. He's… gone?"_

"Well, he's not _dead_," Zelda began to explain in a manner that was more sarcastic than strictly necessary, whilst breaking eye-contact to distract herself from the fact that she was still talking to herself. "He's just… not here."

"_Then we should find him." _The voice had grown stronger once and more and Zelda recognized the current of hope in that not-so-stranger's voice. She also recognized the complexity of emotion in the simply uttered sentence—it was the same overwhelming trust and hope that Link inspired in her—and her chest physically ached.

"_I've missed him. He's been gone for so long... I worried I would never find him again."_ The voice sighed and the sound of longing immediately snapped Zelda's gaze to her reflection, once more glaring at the mirror. _"Let's go see him. I know the way, still."_

"No."

"…_Pardon me?"_ The coolness made her flinch, but Zelda pushed that from her mind and steeled her anger.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Head." Zelda hissed, glaring into the pools of seemingly endless blue. Her voice had come out far crueler than intended, but the rising sense of foreboding and panic that had chilled her veins kept her apologizing for her actions.

"…_What's the matter?"_

Zelda ground her teeth together, staring into her own eyes for a hint of _something_. Lavender, amethyst, purple, gray, was there _anything_ left that wasn't that overwhelming icy-blue?

"_Zelda?"_

"Get out of my head." Zelda whispered forcefully. "I won't let you see him. You can't have him. I won't lose him. He's not going to get hurt because of you, that's done now."

Her blood felt as if had all stopped flowing in her veins as she registered the truth in her words. She knew suddenly who she was speaking to, and what exactly it meant. But how could _she_ not know what would happen? Hadn't she known for a long time that she would be the reason he died in the end? How long had she tried to ignore the truth her dreams spun?

"_Zelda?_" The voice, for all of its calm, sounded strangely wounded and the blonde jerked her head away, defiantly heading away from the mirror even as the voice spoke. _"What are you talking about? We are one and the same and we need to see him. We should go, now."_

"There is no _we_." Zelda hissed at the empty room as she all but threw the clean white bathroom door open and opened up a dresser drawer, desperately fumbling around for something, anything really. "I am _not_ going to lose him. You are going to get out of my head and he is going to _live_, goddesses damn you. And so am I."

"_Zelda?"_

"You're dead. This is crazy. You're just a palace myth, a stupid story. You're dead and you don't exist. This isn't real and this isn't happening and, even if it is, you're not going to hurt him and I won't let you have him. He's _not_ yours."

"_Zelda?"_

"This is crazy. Get out. Out. Right now. Out."

"_Zelda?"_

"I'm not going to let you." She whispered , ignoring the various things that were knocked out of the drawer in her haste. She'd have to pick it all up later, before Sheik got there. "I am a twenty-first century woman and I care a lot less about stupid old traditions and heroes than whoever you've tormented before. I don't believe in you and you can't hurt him."

"_Hurt him? I would never hurt him. You have to believe me."_ The Princess sounded almost panicked and Zelda refused to respond, her hand still desperately searching for something in the drawer.

She had to make this stop. She could feel something in her mind shifting, her feet moving, _something_ invisible forcing her to move and—no! She felt something cold inside her and she stopped searching, ignoring her own rising panic and the fact that if she gave in—even a little—then _she_ would go to him.

And maybe she was just sleep deprived and a little crazy, but something told her that if she gave in then something would shift. Some delicate balance would be tipped and domino into a series of events that none of them could stop.

Some old line in a fairytale once told to her had her reaching for the candle on her nightstand, burning brightly.

"_Zelda?"_

She couldn't let that couldn't happen. It was her job to protect the balance. To protect him. The voice was growing louder and more frantic and she could hardly _think _around all of the noise. She forced her hand to close firmly around the familiar hand-guard of the candle holder, even as she felt an opposing force trying to pry her fingers off of it.

"_Zelda? Zelda, what are you doi—"_

"Dark to light, and light to dark, the balance in the world so stark. We, the shadow, the forgotten, do so swear to protect the balance." The words were foreign but familiar and they came quickly, unbidden, jumping from her lips as she tipped the flame of the candle and brought it to her arm.  
"Flame to burn away the night, burn strong, burn bright. No ghosts of the past shall rest here tonight."

Pain registered in her arm and then… there was nothing.

Silence echoed inside her head and her limbs slackened. In the silence, some semblance of control began to slowly ebb back into her.

The blonde found herself walking back to the bathroom mirror, bracing her arms against the sink counter as she started to run the cold water. As she did so slowly, cautiously she brought her gaze back up to face her own reflection once more.

Relief stole her breath as she stared back into her own distinctly lavender eyes and she slumped tiredly against the counter.

The light of the candle from the other room cast strange shadows in the bathroom mirror and the pain of the burn began to register. She held her arm under the sink, letting the cold water mask the sting of the burn.

"What was that?" She found herself whispering, frowning, as she recalled the words—the spell?—that she had uttered. "What am I doing? There's no such thing as… as spells, as magic. That's for kids to feel better, not grown women.

Her head slumped down as she turned off the water and dressed her arm.

"Please give me strength, goddesses." Her voice echoed in the silence. "Farore, help me I think I'm losing my mind."

That night no help or answers came, but the nightmares recessed. Only her own thoughts kept her from sleeping.

She wanted desperately to believe that she protected him because he was her best friend and that it was only her own feelings that drove her to care so deeply for him. She wanted to believe that it had nothing to do with the stories her mother had told her as a child, nothing to do with the strange coincidence of their names, nothing to do with fate.

Zelda wanted desperately to believe that what she may or may not have felt for Link had nothing to do with the voice or her dreams_—_that maybe she really was just losing her mind and her childhood stories weren't suddenly coming to life_._

* * *

**December 17, 2016—1 p.m.  
**1904 Castle Street

Sheik stepped through the side door silently, discarding his boots in remembrance of what Zelda had requested the day before. The furniture had been moved around, he noted, as he maneuvered through the living room and to the small kitchenette where he heard Zelda bustling about. With the air of someone extremely aged and world-weary he entered the kitchen, seating himself on top the counter even as Zelda waggled a finger at him in disapproval.

The red-eyed young man shrugged in a noncommittal manner, hardly heeding the princess' newfound obsessive-compulsive tendencies.

Said princess was currently elbow deep in dishwater, scrubbing away at a pot that she'd presumably burnt rice in—or something to that effect. As per usual, she looked neatly groomed and well put-together in a white button-down shirt and a slim cut jeans, black heels on her feet. If he looked closely he could still catch a hint of the darkened circles underneath her eyes that she'd attempted to cover up with make-up, but he paid it little heed. She hadn't been sleeping very well ever since she'd moved in, to his knowledge.

"Morning Sheik," She greeted pleasantly, nodding towards the coffee maker as he smiled vaguely in his own form of hello. "Coffee?"

"I'll have to decline, thank you." He responded evenly as the blonde woman merely shrugged and carried on with the dishes. After a beat of silence Sheik spoke again, taking in her appearance once more with a proud air. He'd always had the utmost confidence in Zelda's ability to work through her problems, and he was strangely relieved to see that Link had been no different for the blonde.

"You seem to be well, Princess. You look very… orderly."

Sheik didn't notice the way she tensed up at the simple pet-name. He only noticed that Zelda flashed her head of security a wide grin and that her eyes were unusually lavender and her shadow looked oddly pronounced in the morning light.

He took no note of the burn on her arm or the faint feeling of magic in the air.

* * *

**A/N:** And _now_ we can start really getting into the swing of things. Sorry, Link and Zelda have to put off being reunited for just a while longer. I know, I know, you were all looking forward to that. It just didn't fit into this chapter, as you can probably tell, but don't worry! He'll be back in the next chapter, I promise. And maybe they'll even have their not-so-happy reunion, who knows? And what happened after Malon left? Well, you'll just have to wait for a flashback at some point in the future, won't you?

And yes, this story does end happily, in case any of you were wondering. It'll just be a little while longer.

Your reviews are my inspiration, so please don't be shy. You have no idea how much even a few words mean to me.

And thank you to all of my loyal reviewers who have stayed with me this far! Love and digital brownies for all of you.

-Cappucinno


	7. Moving Forward

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not mine, with the exception of Shane. I own nada, except for Shane. I don't own Hyrule, only Shane.

* * *

**First and Foremost**  
by Cappucinno

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN: MOVING FORWARD  
**

* * *

**September 14, 2009  
**_Small Lecture Hall, Hyrule University's College of Arts, Sciences, and Letters_

_By the time the professor had starting drawing connections between the effect of a mother in child rearing and the Harry Potter series Link had decided that she was full of shit. He rolled his eyes as he went on about the "protective factors" a biological mother could have, using poor Lily Evans as her model._

"_You see, if Lily Evans had not loved her son he would not have been protected from Voldemort's powers. Similarly, a child's biological mother provides psychological protection in the early years of the child's life…"_

_Link sighed and turned to the person sitting next to him. They were diligently recording the professors wisdom, verbatim._

"_Is this really happening right now?" He whispered to himself, shaking his head even as he began to write the comparison down._

"_I can't believe this is happening," His thoughts were echoed by the student to his left._

"_Clearly she doesn't realize that you're not supposed to say his name out loud," Link quipped, rolling his eyes and turning to the girl who had spoken. His pen stopped in its tracks._

_With her blonde hair pulled into a haphazard bun on top her head, the girl sitting next to him was the epitome of the sexy librarian. Loose tendrils of spun-gold hair framed her face and a few shorter strands curled over her black-rimmed glasses. Her violet eyes were fastened on the professor even as she shook her head in disdain, chewing absentmindedly on the end of her pencil. _

"_She's pulling out Harry Potter references and she's only one lecture in," Sexy-librarian-girl mused aloud, sounding equal parts awed and horrified. "I had to wait for four years to get to contemporary literary references in high school."_

"_Oh no, Lily Evans is not a literary reference," Link found himself responding with mock solemnity, even as he mentally kicked himself for being a dumbass in front of a beautiful stranger. "Clearly, this is a literal reference. You see, our professor has just established that every child with a dead mother is under magical protection; incidentally, children with living mothers only have vague psychological advantages."_

_His blonde seatmate didn't immediately respond and Link tried not to care. He studiously took down notes, making them as neat as possible in case sexy-librarian looked down at them. After a nervous minute of non-stop note-taking and attentive staring at the teacher, he chanced a glance at the blonde sitting next to him._

_Her violet eyes were focused on him, her expression thoughtful. Link grinned reflexively, an embarrassed gesture, and after a moment sexy-librarian's lips quirked into something that resembled a smile. _

_Link's heart did a quick-step._

"_You should do your term paper on that." She responded, her eyes eventually turning back to the professor who had moved on to the next set of slides. "I can see it now, 'Why Dead Moms Are Better'—you would, of course, have to cite both this lecture and the Harry Potter Series."_

"_Hm, I don't know. That," Link frowned, carefully controlling his expression. "Would be some heavy reading. I don't know if I have that kind of time."_

_This time he didn't have to wait for a response, her laughter was immediate. It was a quick, short, laugh over in a second but a handful of students turned around with scowling faces. _

_Sexy-librarian feigned innocence and failed, a guilty blush coloring her cheeks even as she pretended to diligently copy down the lecture slides. Next to her, Link grinned unabashedly and leaned over to scribble a quick note on her tidy legal pad as the professor continued to lecture.  
_

_She just called Severus Cerberus.—Link_

_I was trying to pretend it didn't happen. –Zelda_

_...She just did it again. —Link_

_Stop writing on my notes. –Zelda_

_Link gave her a long-suffering look and then raised his hand._

"_Fine. But just so you know, it's your fault that I'm doing this."_

_The professor ignored it, continuing on with her lecture and Link waved his arm around in the air, looking exasperated. The professor seemed determined to ignore him._

"_Um, excuse me!" Link raised his voice, speaking loud enough to talk over both the teacher and the quiet student chatter. "It's actually Severus Snape. Not Cerberus Snake."_

_The lecture hall fell silent. Zelda dissolved into helpless giggles._

* * *

**December 20, 2016—11 a.m.  
**Malon's apartment, the bedroom.

Malon was worried.

She couldn't put her finger on it exactly, but there was something wrong with Zelda. Or, rather, there was something _new _wrong with Zelda. It had been almost three weeks since Zelda had moved out what Malon secretly referred to as the Love Shack.

Outwardly, Zelda seemed fine. If anything she was more put together than she had previously been, more composed, and more focused. But save for the occasional burst of rare spontaneous energy she was less… Zelda. Her famous temper had gone into hibernation and Malon couldn't remember the last time she'd heard an honest laugh out of her friend.

When she'd asked Sheik a few weeks ago if he knew what was wrong with Zelda, he'd said something about the princess having a handful of bad dreams. She'd told him that that was the biggest load of shit that she had ever heard, begging his pardon.

Still, the reclusive Sheikah hadn't said anything further and Malon had been avoiding him since her uncomfortable encounter with him in the castle entry hall a few days prior. Malon had been trying not to think of her mangled confession or his disturbing revelations. In fact, for the past few days she had been trying not to think of Sheik at all.

It was a difficult task, but she had Zelda's odd behavior to distract her.

Bad dreams might have explained away how tired Zelda had been looking lately, but they didn't explain away everything. Zelda had been appropriately distraught when she'd left Link and moved out, but she had been resolute in her reason for doing so. She believed that she'd done the right thing, and Malon believed it too.

That didn't make it any easier to watch Zelda quietly miss Link and it didn't make her recent behavior any less unusual. Malon understood heartache very well, and while Zelda displayed all of the obvious signs, the redhead couldn't help but feel that there was something else going on underneath it all.

Bad dreams explained how tired Zelda was. It didn't explain the way that Malon had caught her talking to herself when she thought she was alone.

"Come on Mal, you're just being paranoid." The redhead chided herself, shaking her head and rolling up her sleeves. In front of her was a pile of old college pictures that she'd convinced Link to surrender to her.

She'd gotten halfway through the pile, checking and double checking. There was something disturbing that Malon was trying to dispel, a nagging thought that she couldn't quite shake. With every picture she went through, the thought became a little clearer and it took on a troubling shape.

Bad dreams did not explain away the fact that Zelda was changing.

They were little things, like the color of her eyes and the slant of her lips, but Malon had known Zelda long enough to know. The further back in time that Malon looked, the more the changes were noticeable.

Her hands flew through the stack of old photographs, her heart beating a little faster with each one, her skin paling, hands developing a tremble. Finally, her hands landed on an old picture of Zelda from her freshman year in college. It had been the first time that she'd met Link.

With shaky fingers she opened up her cellphone and pulled up the most recent picture, taken one week back.

The two pictures didn't look like the same person. In the time that Zelda had known Link, she had undergone years of subtle physical change. It had been so slow a process that none of them had noticed; only recently in the past handful of weeks had it become more pronounced.

Malon took a deep breath and quietly slid the old pictures into the box that they come from, closing the lid on her fears. Steeling herself and willing her nerves away, she put the box under the bed and rose steadily to her feet.

"It doesn't mean anything, Mal." She told herself, closing her eyes and willing her newfound realization away. "Plenty of people lose their baby fat when they get older."

Most people, however, did not also change their eye color and facial features. Bone structure was also considered by most to be a fairly stable construction. Eyesight was also something that didn't tend to magically improve on its own and Zelda had stopped needing glasses almost a year ago.

There was something wrong with Zelda and Malon didn't know it was. There was a voice in her head that whispered to her that Zelda couldn't know. If Zelda found out, something bad would happen. She trusted it.

Numbly, Malon reached for the phone and did the first thing she always did when she was in trouble. She dialed Sheik's number.

The phone rang three times before he picked up.

"Yes?"

"Sheik. It's Malon."

There was a pause on the other line, but she didn't wait for him to carefully mete out his response.

"This isn't about the other night. Listen, something's up with Zelda."

A deep sigh.

"Malon," His voice was patient, almost patronizing. "She hasn't been sleeping well, she's having a hard time with Link gone, but she's adjusting."

"No, Sheik, I said _listen _to me. I think something's wrong."

This time the pause was longer and there was something in the silence that she knew instinctively to be a mixture of panic, fear, and concern. When Sheik finally spoke, his voice was tightly controlled but she knew him well enough to hear the strain.

"I'm listening."

* * *

**December 25, 2016—2 a.m.  
**The Old Training Grounds, Unknown Location

It had been about a week since Link had first gotten corralled into this madness by Malon. He'd initially met her at Oak's Bar and Grill in hopes of finding out some information about Zelda without looking like a pitiful mess, but he'd somehow wound up _here _instead. And goddesses help him, something kept bringing him back every night.

He stood in the light of the moon, a sword in his hands, his blood singing with anticipation. His cobalt eyes raked attentively over the gathered shadows, watching and waiting with baited breath.

There! A flicker of movement, barely discernible in the shadow of the moon, and Link surged forward with more speed than he remembered having. His blade met steel and the sparks illuminated his familiar opponent.

They moved into an age old dance, blades singing, feet shifting, bodies nimbly ducking and weaving. Metal met metal relentlessly and the song of the blades kept them in constant controlled motion, lunging backwards and forwards, rolling sideways, driving and pushing and wheeling around each other like wolves called to the hunt.

Link's mind was blessedly clear, unfettered by grief, driven only by instinct and a desire that he couldn't put a name to anymore.

His sword was an extension of himself as he swung it graceful arcs, pushing off attacks that he felt more than saw. _This _was something he knew, even if his body was unfamiliar with it. His mind drove him intuitively and sometimes he had difficulty keeping up.

There was a flash of movement behind him and even as his mind screamed at him to duck and roll, he lurched forward in a half-abandoned forward strike and his blade went flying into a nearby stack of hay.

"Damn it Impa!" He cursed as he stomped after his fallen weapon. "I thought we agreed that I wasn't ready for shadow doubles."

"And, as we have seen, you aren't." Impa responded, a hint of amusement lacing her usually dry voice.

Link scowled in her direction, the battle song in his blood slowly fading as he sheathed his weapon.

"How am I supposed to improve if you never let me get good at anything?"

"That isn't my concern." Impa shrugged. "You need to be exposed to all manner of attacks before you can fancy yourself good at fending off any."

"It's only been a _week._" He protested, wincing as he moved to stretch out his sore muscles. For a week straight he had been undergoing this 'training regimen' in the dark hours of the morning. He couldn't remember a single day that he hadn't woken in all kinds of pain.

"And we only have two months until you need to be ready to perform your duties." Her expression was inscrutable. "As you yourself have mentioned, we have a long way to go until you're any good."

Link sighed in exasperation, settling his sore bulk onto one of the many scattered haystacks. In the corner of his eye he could see a couple of barrels and wooden crates hidden rather poorly under a different pile of hay.

He got the sudden urge to smash them.

As if reading his mind, Impa's lips stretched into a wide smile.

"You're a lot like him."

Link looked up at her, eyes curious.

"You keep saying that. Who do I remind you of?"

"No one. He's long gone."

"You… trained him?" Link ventured a guess.

"Something like that." Impa assented.

She brought the subject up with relatively frequency, but she was frustratingly tight lipped about whoever he reminded her of. Then again, Impa wasn't exactly the most talkative person he'd ever met.

"You have good instincts, Link." Somehow, he knew it wasn't a compliment. "We might be able to make something out of you yet in a month's time."

And with that the strange woman disappeared, melting into the shadows without another word. Link looked after her for a couple moments, tracking the shadows, looking for where she had gone. As usual, he found nothing but more questions.

And just like that, his worries began to return.

"How did I get caught up in this?" He asked himself, for the thousandth time.

It had something to do with Zelda. He knew that much. That was how he'd first found his way here—he'd been chasing her memory and Malon had dragged him to this old… honestly, Link didn't know what it was. The place looked like an ancient abandoned farm, with creaky structures and oddly invincible scarecrows that doubled as training dummies.

The first night he'd come looking for answers about Zelda. He'd returned because strangely, when he had a sword in his hands, he stopped thinking of Zelda. The heartache dulled, replaced by a craving for action that he'd never even realized he'd had.

But this was ridiculous. He wasn't a warrior. He wasn't the kind of guy who went around swinging swords like he lived at a Renaissance Faire.

He was just Link. He was college graduate, double-major, respectable office grunt Link.

"What am I doing swinging swords around?" As usual, the night bore no answers for him.

That night when Link dragged himself back to his couch and collapsed in a pile of sore muscles, he didn't think about Zelda. He thought about the nagging voice that chased him insistently into slumber and he thought, strangely, of fairies.

_Come on, Link! It's this way, over here._

* * *

**A/N: **The first few chapter of this story have been revised to make it a little more coherent. If you're a first time reader, don't sweat it! You're all up to date. If you're an old follower, it might be worth your time to go back and give the story another run through. On another, I'm back! Four years later, whoops. I won't make you wait so long next time. If you've been waiting all this time, I'm so sorry. I'm also impressed you're still here with me. If this chapter feels a little awkward, it has been four years since I've touched these characterizations and this plot so hopefully it'll get smoother once I get re-adjusted to them.

Whether a first time reader or an old follower, if you've gotten this far please leave me a review and let me know what you think! It takes two seconds, I promise, and there's absolutely no way you can offend me. Reviews warm my heart, good and bad ones.

I'll see you all on the next chapter! Sometime in the next two weeks. I'll put together an organized updating schedule at some point and put it up on my profile for everyone to keep track of.

Love you all,

Cappucinno


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